Living Arrangements
by HeRonFan
Summary: Ron and Hermione discover living with family is not necessarily conducive to romance.  Part 3 of Hermione's Worst Nightmare.  George and Angelina subplot.  Reviews are appreciated.
1. Anticipation

Living Arrangements

Summary: Ron and Hermione discover that living with family is not necessarily conducive to romance. Threequel to Hermione's Worst Nightmare

Rated M for a reason! If you're under 18, this isn't for you. You have been warned.

Part 1: Hermione's Worst Nightmare

Part 2: Australian R & R

Part 3: Living Arrangements

These are all Ron and Hermione centered.

Other fics that bridge these stories are General/Harry centered or stand alone fics—including: Loose Ends, and Meet the Press which fall immediately after the Battle of Hogwarts and between Parts 1 and 2. In _my_ mind Love and Lament is now part of their background, but I wrote it after ARR.

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Chapter 1: Anticipation

Hermione Granger smiled as her eyes closed and she tilted her head back. Ron knew her sweet spots and he would never let a night together lapse without hitting at least two to drive her wild and send shivers through her body in anticipation of fulfilment. The problem was Ron Weasley was a tease. He had always been in different ways growing up. But now it was sexually, physically excruciating, and damn if the man didn't enjoyed every minute of her writhing and gyrating to his touch. He knew just how long to push her body, to drive her to the excruciating edge of the precipice and pull back on her just enough to drive her crazy with her desire for him. He knew her body like his own, and she knew his. Tomorrow, he was leaving for a two week intensive course on the newest defensive spells, potions, and transfigurations developed by the Ministry to capture dark wizards and send them to Azkaban. Tomorrow, he would leave; but right now with the moonlight glowing off the light covering of snow outside and the green and red lights that lit up Diagon Alley during the festive season adding to the romance of their room together, she had him. She had him exactly where she wanted him which was also exactly where he wanted her. Joining together as one.

Tonight he had chosen the spot on her neck below her right ear. His musky scent filled her nostrils as his lips and tongue worked together to create sensations in her that felt so good they should be illegal she thought. Illegal because she had no coherent thought whatsoever that was not primal when he went there, especially while his hands busied themselves on her breasts. Fingertips played with her nipple, teasing and increasing her appetite before his lips worked their way down to gently kiss and then take her in his mouth commanding a response in her that she was helpless against. She began to claw at him, grabbing him almost viciously. He loved it when she lost herself in the moment and he was the cause. He loved the wild and abandoned Hermione Granger that only he was privy to; she loved the raw and hungry Ron Weasley who was making her come without so much as even touching the apex between her legs—yet.

Ron smirked as he hungrily watched his girlfriend shudder in his arms. She was so beautiful to him and she looked at him with lusty eyes. Just that look could make him hard. There were certain days of her cycle that he knew her body was complete putty in his hands, when fondling her breasts meant not just igniting the fire below, but having a front row seat to watch and enjoy the combustion. The audible gasps of his name along with quenched whimperings enthralled him and spurred on his own desire of her.

He hadn't told her how he had taken the time to actually chart her body workings. It was an assignment he read about in Tonks' Auror Training Books. Well, truth be told, he was really only supposed to be observing a subject closely for a month to determine regular habits, comings and goings, schedule, etc. Ron decided to analyze his girlfriend. He had heard all those rumours about girls and their mood swings, so he thought this might just be the type of thing that could benefit him as well as their relationship. Perhaps it might mean knowing when not to argue too much or things could go wrong. But a side benefit he discovered was he actually noticed a difference in her sexual appetite and interestingly, her responsiveness. On Days 12-14 and 27-28, she was so horny it was unreal. She orgasmed so easily it was mildly embarassing for Ron when she once called him a "Fuck-god". Actually, in the heat of the moment she had those two terms reversed and then jokingly referred to him in the other order, thinking herself very clever and complimentary as the waves of ecstasy had radiated through her body. If she thought he was that skilled, he would quietly take the credit and enjoy the return rewards.

A moment later he lowered himself to her beckoning womanhood and parting her legs he eagerly dove into her folds, his tongue exploring, causing more juices to flow. He latched on to her clitoris, sucking sensuously as she began to quiver again. "Oh, Ron! There! Fuck! There...there...oh,oh!" she gasped. Her eyes rolled back in her head as her eyelids fluttered along with her body. As soon as she descended, he roughly pulled her up, kissing her deeply as he pulled back on her hair. She felt like a rag-doll as she went limp and then his probing tongue demanded and received her renewed arousal. He wasn't finished yet. Easily he turned her body to face the headboard as his hands sought her breasts, pulling her back hard against him, his mouth found her sweet spot under her right ear again as his rock hard erection teased her entrance and she backed into him. They rose and fell together, heart beats racing, skin flushed. She reached behind her to take him in hand, hiccuping his breathing when she began to pump him. "Ron, you're, you're a rock. You're so hard. You need..."

"I really need to be in you. Now!" He grabbed both her hands and moved them up against the wall as she spread her legs and positioned herself for him to enter her from behind. They had been together over two years, but she never tired of the sensation of his cock entering her and filling her up, waiting a moment for her to adjust to his size. It was barely two seconds before he tilted at the right angle to stimulate her clitoris as he began pumping frantically into her, gritting his teeth to hold on long enough for her to orgasm again before he emptied himself into her. Their bodies quaked together as they came down from their high, holding on to one another and breathing hard. He tilted her face to his and kissed her deeply, ready to sleep for the night with her in his arms. "God, I love you."

"I love you too, but I'm not done with you."

It took him a moment to register what she was doing, but she had pushed him back against the pillows, grabbed her wand and cleaned them up, before she grabbed on to his dick again, pumping him hard in seconds. "I know your body too, Sweetheart. When you're THAT hard, you're not done with just one performance."

"Well, only a fool would argue with that logic. Oh! Merlin!" Her mouth descended on him and she moved on him over and over again, sucking and pumping him. Her tongue darted out to tickle his head and spread the pre-cum over him and herself. As he watched in fascination she took him in whole so quick and so hard. Three dissensions and he would be done. She smiled as she felt him tense up. Tonight she kept her mouth over him as he objectified himself in her again. There was nothing to clean up though as she made sure he saw her evening meal of him. He moaned in ecstasy, searching for her hand and gripping it as he came again. "Holy fuck, Hermione! That was hot!"

No sooner did he get the words out then she was lying on top of him lengthwise and kissing him, almost sucking him off orally. She demanded his tongue inside her mouth and she got what she wanted as she held his face in her hands, her fingers slowly sinking deeper into his hair as she finished him in every way, leaving him gasping for breath. She relished taking control as much as he did.

She rolled off him and snuggled under his arm, laying her head on his chest. "That was...just a little something to keep you warm at night for the next two weeks without me," she said a little breathlessly and spent.

"Merlin!" he panted. "I need to go away more often," he said as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, kissing the top of her head.

A sudden banging on the wall behind them startled them out of their after-glow, as George yelled. "Are you two done now, so I can finally get some sleep? Muffling charm, people! MUF-FUL-ING CHARM!"

Both froze and then Hermione buried her face in his chest in embarrassment. "Oh, Ron!"

His hands pulled her closer to comfort her. He laughed lightly though he was a bit squeamish about the incident himself. "Sorry, mate!" he yelled at the wall. Then he turned his attention back to his girlfriend. "It's okay. He would think we were doing it anyway, even if he didn't hear us." The placation sounded weak in his ears. He didn't think it would fly with Hermione and within a moment she swatted him.

"Oh, that's such a guy thing to say! I'm not some bimbo you hooked up with in a bar like George does!" she said angrily.

"Whoa. Hermione, I know that. And you know very well that he knows that too. He doesn't think, he wouldn't think of you, -er us, that way. We aren't a random fuck here." Although, for such an observant girl, she hadn't acknowledged that George had stopped that particular behaviour about six months ago after meeting up with Angelina Johnson again.

"Oh, don't say it like that!" She grabbed a pillow and rolled to her side of the bed and ducked her head under it. She was on her knees, her butt in the air.

Normally, a position like that would just scream out to be slapped, but right now was not the time for it, he judged by her distress. "Well, that's what I mean. We aren't just hooking up, I love you; you love me. He knows that."

"I can't believe you forgot the charm, again."

"You're kidding, right? This was YOUR seduction tonight, honey. You jumped me when I walked in the room."

She sat bolt up, immediately, an angry look in her eye. "Sooo, what? You can't think with two heads at once, Ronald! Why do I always have to stop and remember the potion, or the charm?"

"Excuse me?" _Day 28, day 28, day 28. She gets annoyed quicker right before her period_. "What are we ACTUALLY arguing about?" Because really, he thought, the fact that he couldn't think with both heads at once should not come as a shock to her.

She opened her mouth to retort and then shut it and took a nervous, deep breath. "I think we need our own place. We can afford it now. We've both saved up some money. I've been working for a year, and you—for two and a half. Do you want to move in together? Get our own place?" The next step—the words weren't said, but her meaning was plain for him to see.

She knew he was sensitive to their financial status and that was what held him back. He had always been embarrassed by the hand-me-down robes or textbooks he often had over the years. Sometimes in class he would turn pink from humiliation when his textbook pages didn't match up with the newest edition that other classmates were using, or he didn't have a certain potion that was in the newest book. When they discussed having a future together during the night of nightmares, he had said when he was ready, he knew he would ask her to marry him. She understood he meant having something to offer her besides love. The issue had come up again in Australia during their special dinner date. Only once she had assuaged his concerns about money, did he relax about his choice to help George out at the store and get him get focussed again instead of becoming an Auror right away. He did not want to truly begin a life together only one step from being poor.

To that end, Ron was very careful with his money. He splurged on a new set of clothes for work at the store, and the sapphire pendant he bought for her first birthday since becoming a couple which she now wore with sentimental pride. But aside from those, he had been he had been prudent in his purchases. Hermione had gone back to school and finished seventh year at Hogwarts. He visited every other Saturday, on his days off. But he worked most days with George in London at Weasley Wizard Wheezes and saved for his future but still had a good time. He had joined a recreational quidditch league which played Monday and Wednesday nights to keep fit and have a little fun and succeeded in getting George to join up too. He usually went out afterwards with the guys for a drink, but had budgeted for those nights and never overdoing by leaving his wallet at home and only bringing the allotted amount. He made his lunch everyday instead of going to a restaurant unless one of the guys from school dropped by on occasion. He had even come up with two ideas for products which he helped George create and banked the rewards. He had lived that first summer of 1998 back at the Burrow technically, Apparating to and from the store. But he often found himself staying in town due to necessity. George would often find Ron sleeping on the couch after a floo message was received at the Burrow that it might be best if George were to leave a particular establishment after a night of partying.

George and Fred had actually bought the unit where Weasley Wizard Wheezes was situated in Diagon Alley, not merely renting it. The apartment above had two bedrooms, a small kitchen, bath, and sitting room, and a separate entrance. Fred and George had their wills made and should anything happen they had named each other the beneficiary, unless either had married in which case their half would go to their wives. So George was now the sole owner of the premises and it wasn't until he was comfortable dealing with Fred's stuff that he offered Ron the room to stay in and rent. Their mother finally came over and cleaned out Fred's clothes, donating much to charity when George refused to wear any of it. Ron did not have the same build so it made no sense for Ron to keep them. Besides, Ron thought, he couldn't wear his brother's clothes either. Moving into his room would be hard enough and was a gradual process for Ron who tended to stay in the sitting room until certain nights when it became a little too inconvenient if George had company.

Since Ron spent most of his summer there anyway, George finally offered him Fred's room. Ron would move in in September of 1998 and the two Weasley brothers would live there together, sharing expenses. Having girlfriends move in was another issue. No live-ins was how George felt at the time. Hermione was at Hogwarts so there was no concern there, but had either had a girlfriend move in the dynamics would change and Ron was not keen on upsetting a good deal that he knew he had there. He loved living in the city and in the liveliest section of the magical market place. It was fun, exciting at times with all the energy of the alley re-newing itself after the closures of the previous two years. But even he had his limits and sometimes missed the peace and tranquility of the country. He was actually ready for a move and be able to spend more time with Hermione. He also saw the writing on the wall. George was falling hard for Angelina Johnson, their former quidditch captain. It was just a matter of time, he thought. Everything was pointing to a change in living arrangements for him.

After Hermione graduated in the spring of 1999, she had continued to live with her parents while she took some training courses at the ministry. But weekends, she was a permanent fixture at the Diagon Alley store and apartment. She even helped out when they needed an extra hand on occasion. That was a year and a half ago. They had been quietly working towards more, a life truly together, and Ron had finally begun work as an Auror six months ealier. The question was when exactly that more would take place.

Ron looked at her in earnest, his expression softening immediately. He could see the wanting in her eyes in the moonlight, as well as the concern he might actually turn her down. He could be too proud at times, and he knew it. "Well..." he smiled happily, almost dreamily as he thought of waking up next to her every morning instead of just weekends and the occasional sleep over during the week. "I think that's a great idea. I think we've got enough between us now to be secure. Furniture will take a good chunk out you know, that's why I've been waiting a bit longer, but..."

"Ron? Really?" She squealed in happiness as she smothered him with light kisses as her arms assailed him and knocked him over.

"Whoa!"

"MUFFLING CHARM!" came the voice from next door.

"Yes! Yes!" Ron laughed. He reached up and caressed her cheek softly, oblivious to the yell. "Yes. I think it's time too." He brushed her lips with a sweet kiss. "Shall we get some sleep?"

Hermione stared at him, blushing pink with happiness at the prospect of a new stage in their life together. She snuggled under his arm and sighed contentedly. "I can't wait."

He smiled again and kissed the top of head. He had to admit to himself that he was a little disappointed. Two weeks. Damn, he missed being the first to make the move by two weeks. _Okay, Weasley, so much for that Christmas Eve surprise._

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A/N: Female mood swings and sexual appetites...I used to work in a doctor's office. This idea stemmed from a waiting room discussion between female patients comparing how they had discovered they reacted during specific days of their cycle. One said, during days 12-14, ovulation, that her breasts hurt so much, her boyfriend couldn't touch her at all. The other woman said she was the exact opposite, so horny and orgasmic it was unreal. I decided to give Hermione that experience. Sounded a lot more fun to me! Another woman was mood sensitive before the onset of her cycle, so that was incorporated too for a little fun because we know they have to argue a little bit. It's their foreplay! Keep in mind what day of her cycle it will be on Christmas Eve when Ron returns. Hmmm... (BTW, I know Xmas Eve is a Sunday in the year 2000—need a little licence here.)

George...don't despair. Ron and Hermione's relationship here is reactionary to Ron's "gate-keeper" mentality towards his family, in this case George. JKR said Ron worked at the shop for two years before Harry came to recruit him to become an Auror. So I'm trying to keep with that "cannon" (interview).

DHP2—have now seen it 5 times. Am progressively more disappointed with Ron and Hermione's kiss. Not Rupert and Emma's fault—they did a great job overcoming the natural awkwardness of the situation. But...what the **** was the director of photography and editor thinking by positioning the camera to show only the back of Rupert's head and then use a pull away shot. Seriously? After all the hype for it?


	2. Insomnia

Chapter 2: Insomnia Revised.

Disclaimer: JK Rowling actually owns everything here. No monetary gain intended, just personal fulfillment.

**REVISED:** I expanded George and Angelina—their meeting in the shop, their date and her background a bit. I uploaded Chapter 2 too early last time as I was fighting the clock to get my family packed and out the door on holiday. While away, I tweaked this chapter a bit, although it still has the double flashback which I may revise at a later date to become a chapter on its own. So if you are reading this for a second time it's pretty much the same except for G & A's date.

Named Death Eater will have an impact on the next story and with different Weasley women if you choose continue to follow my thread. It's working title is Generations.

A/N: Thank you for the reviews. They are truly appreciated, even if I don't get to thank you each personally. My kids tend to interrupt me a lot. Seems they still like me. They are 8 and 6.

Kari, that was a constructive comment and it encouraged me to get what was in my head on the screen, i.e. Angie's background. I think that since this was Ron and Hermione centered, I was hesitant to put it out there. But you were right, it only added to my own satisfaction with the story. Hope others will agree, despite the focus on the subplot characters in this chapter.

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This chapter involves a **double flashback:**

Ron thinking about meeting Angelina Johnson one morning in the apartment and how it came about.

During their conversation, she will think about what led up to that meeting via her night with George.

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Ron had drifted off to sleep quickly, but by 2a.m. he was wide awake, troubled and staring at the white ceiling. Hermione's even breathing next to him soothed him. Once in a while she would begin to snore although she would always deny this. He often wondered how such a smart girl could argue that point when she was asleep and had no idea she was doing it. One night, he will have to record her. The thought of the ensuing conversation amused him and he smiled to himself.

He turned to gaze at her in the semi-darkness of what he considered to be their room, not his, despite the official living arrangements. It was getting cramped. An extra dresser had been moved in for her weekend clothes. He included her laundry with his on Thursdays so that her clothes were ready and fresh for when she'd arrive after work on Fridays. Usually, she would come and watch his games on Wednesday nights and join in at the pub with the team and their girlfriends and wives. She wouldn't come out on Mondays. She thought he needed his time with his buddies, so she joined a book club that met Monday nights.

His thoughts turned to the moment of truth earlier in the evening when George banged on the wall. It hadn't been the first time and it bothered Hermione a lot. He smirked. George and Ron thought it was kind of funny, but he knew it bothered Angie too. He put it down to gender differences. His thoughts turned to another time when he had stumbled upon Angelina sleeping in their living room about six months earlier and what led up to it.

_Flashback:_

Ron kept his head down, focusing harder than usual on his work, trying to sink discreetly into the shelving and not be noticed by his brother who was acting a little goofy, even for George.

"If you don't mind putting up the flyer for a new seventh player for our team, I'd be grateful. Seriously, though, if you don't, I would understand. You probably don't want to start a community bulletin board in your shop."

"Not a problem," George answered taking the flyer from her hand. Their fingers met and he savoured the brief touch that had not been necessary. Had she noticed? Actually, a free bulletin board wasn't a bad idea. It could bring people into the store in the winter for one thing, and then stay and shop a little.

"Thanks. So, I guess I'll see you around," she said.

"Yeah. Take care, Angie," he said subtly. His legs began to feel a little numb from standing frozen behind the cash register. It was a safe place for a store owner to be, he thought, practical. And she wouldn't see his hands fidget as much. But then, when he was in danger of fidgeting before he would stuff his hands in his pockets quickly.

She pivoted on her heel as graceful as a ballerina. Her shapely backside was draped in figure hugging navy dress trousers which also showed off her small waist. She had a perfect hour glass figure and her arms betrayed the athlete that continued to live in her. She jogged three mornings a week. But, she missed the exhilaration of quidditch and was close to putting a team together. She just needed a seventh person.

The store door shut with to the sound of a cackling witch chime that amused, thankfully, instead of annoyed. George stood transfixed as he stared back at the beautiful African English woman who exited his shop, her long hair all ready caught in the breeze, flowing behind her.

Ron looked up at him from his inventory sheet, and followed his gaze as Angelina smiled at his brother and waved good-bye one more time and turned to walk down the street. Ron shook his head. He needed a push. "Are you mental?" he asked exasperatedly. "That's the third time she's been in here this week. Do you need to be hit over the head? Where are those bloody punching telescopes?"

George stared blankly at him, his mouth beginning silent words of excuse when he suddenly turned a little red in the face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Can you close for me tonight?"

"Sure thing. Go catch up to her."

George dropped his fist to the counter quickly, as if punctuating the moment he made up his mind. "Don't wait up, bro."

Ron shook his head. "As if." He turned back to the inventory he was doing and smirked. "Nine boxes of Peruvian Darkness Powder, U-No-Poo: seven. Check more required box," he dictated to his magical quill which quickly wrote down the information in a book that floated at shoulder height. If Hermione could see him pushing his brother, towards a girl, almost playing match-maker, she'd faint from shock, he thought. He who took seven years to finally get around to asking her out—in a back-handed sort of way after having already been kissed by her. Not much of a risk to see if she'd say 'yes'.

Finishing that aisle, he moved over to one of his favourite sections of the store and ordered the enchanted inventory book to turn to a new page. "Heading: Candy Section." He quickly scanned the first item on the shelf. "Skiving Snackboxes: eight. Check off more required." One birthday party and that inventory would be more than cleared out. He had already brought forward the overstock in the back storeroom yesterday. He never understood how mothers would stop reading after the first two words. Actually, he'd seen a lot of kids cover up the ill effects the contents simulated that were listed on the box. Oh well. Serves them right to buy food in a joke shop, he thought.

His gaze remained on the box for a moment, reading the list of candies inside. When he got to puking pastilles, he couldn't help but think of Reg Cattermole. The poor man was a victim of one given to him by Hermione so that Ron could impersonate him to break into the Ministry of Magic.

Suddenly he found himself taking a trip down memory lane as he thought of the man and his poor wife who was being victimized by Delores Umbridge. He wondered whatever happened to them in the time between the Ministry job and the downfall of Voldemort. Did they leave the country like Harry had told her to? Had she been sent to Azkaban after all? It's the little things of that time on the run that he often thought about when the store was quiet, and he was reading about Auror methodology in his spare time.

It took him another hour to complete his work and then he closed the store for the night. He headed upstairs to the apartment to start some laundry. He was at the washing machine when he remembered the lingerie bag that Hermione bought for him after he had ruined a rather sexy black lace teddy. Walking back to their room to retrieve it, he recalled her reaction. She was none too phased by it but commented, with a smug righteousness, that the real person who would suffer would be him since he liked her in it so much and if he wanted to see her in anything like that again, he would have to make use the bag because she wasn't spending the money on something he would ruin after one wearing.

After eating a quick supper, he settled down on the couch with a butterbeer and a third year Stealth and Tracking book which had belonged to Tonks. He was going to start his new job next week, as an Auror. Finally. He was nervous and excited all at once, and Hermione couldn't contain her happiness for him. "Sweetheart, it's what you've always wanted. I'm so happy for you," she said supportively, but he could tell she was also a little concerned. It was law enforcement, the front line, and it was dangerous work. It was what he had always wanted, but somehow life, or in this case, Fred's untimely death, interfered with plans and dreams. But that didn't mean that he didn't still want them to come true. The store was a fun, colourful place to be, but it wasn't his dream. He didn't resent his decision to help George at the shop two years ago, but he seemed to be a lot more focused now and Ron had allowed himself to begin hoping that he could fulfill his own ambitions. Ron did not remember the last time he woke up concerned about keeping George active throughout the day and not wallowing in grief or drowning his depression in a bottle of firewhiskey.

Harry had come for supper at the Burrow on May 2nd, Victoire's first birthday celebration, and the talk turned to work. Ron was clearly still interested in becoming an Auror and constantly asked Harry questions about the job and listened intently to the answers, offering his opinion on the bureaucratic red tape that Harry had to navigate through. Harry was impressed with his ideas and mused about their time on the run and all the previous years in the thick of things at Hogwarts. Harry offered him employment in his chosen field and he accepted officially week or so later, with the proviso that he give George enough notice to begin looking for additional help.

He flipped through the pages to find the chapter where he'd left off Tuesday night, and devoured the written word in front of him. Vaguely, he thought, he was turning into Hermione. Then he shook his head at that thought. Never. He just found something he was truly appreciative of; the book in his hands was information he needed, wanted, and was supremely interested in. Ron was focused with a renewed sense of purpose and behaved accordingly. Hermione didn't understand it. She simply loved knowledge for the sake of knowledge and soaked up as much as she could on whatever subject fancied her at the time. She never required a passionate interest for her to put the extra effort in. She simply always did. That was Hermione and that was the difference between her and Ron. He did so only when it suited his needs and wants. But when Ron was truly interested in something, he could be stellar and he could leave her intrigued anew by him.

At eleven, he put the book down on the coffee table and retrieved the laundry. He used his wand to fold his and Hermione's clothes, and put them away. He looked about his bedroom and flourished his wand to tidy it up a bit. Hermione would be there the next night and things always went better if the room was clean to begin with. Tired, he decided to go to sleep and was oblivious to the world, or anyone entering the apartment, until the alarm woke him at seven in the morning.

The next morning Ron walked into the sitting room to grab the book. Not expecting anything out of the ordinary, he walked in quickly and bent over the coffee table to retrieve it. A sudden movement caught the corner of his eye and a woman sat up bolt straight, eyes wide in shock.

Ron jumped back, startled. "Merlin's beard! Oh, Angelina! Uh," he searched his memory for the English language. "Uh, good morning," he finally released.

"Where am...oh!" she said in realization. "Oh-hhhh," she groaned as she grabbed her head and lay back down. "Hi Ron. This is embarrassing," she moaned into her hair which covered her face messily.

Ron laughed. "THIS is embarrassing!" His hand gestured to her sleeping on the couch. "I could fill you in on more embarrassing mornings here. One of us walking out of the bathroom, not knowing someone was here. Waking up on a couch seems a little tame." He decided not to go into more awkward moments of whichever woman came out of George's bedroom on Sunday mornings.

"Mmmmm, I drank too much. George insisted I stay here. Didn't trust my Apparating in that condition. He even took my wand away. He was probably right." It was an out and out lie, but she didn't feel bad for saying it. What happened between George and her last night was private and would remain private if she had anything to say about it. At first light, she had gotten up and moved to the couch, trying to save a little face and be a little discreet as their relationship changed. The headache was real enough though. Lack of sleep headache she surmised.

"Good thing he did, then. Here, hold on and I'll fix you something that will take that headache away." He headed for the kitchen and began rummaging through the cupboards.

"Do you—do this often?" she asked as she slowly got up and followed him, fully clothed and clutching the light blue blanket from George's bed around her shoulders. She stood in the doorway watching him fly around the kitchen putting together a concoction of three pre-mixed potions and some tomato juice.

"What?"

"Take care of George or, his _friends_," she added tentatively. She wasn't sure if she wanted an answer to that, but she needed to know the situation she might be getting herself into. Her mind drifted to their night together.

They had gone out to dinner, and walking by the river afterwards and then went to play darts at a bar they happened upon. George enjoyed a game every now and then and convinced her to play, asking the barman for a set of darts so he could teach her. He had stood behind her, his body practically spooning hers as he reached out and held her hand in position from behind, guiding her.

"Now, you see, you have to grip the shaft firmly."

She stared at him, her mouth dropping slightly. "You're a naughty man, George Weasley. You're making that up."

"Am not. That's what they call it. Honest," he said innocently, but enjoying the double entendre just the same. "Look, the darts, or arrows, have different parts," he said trying to save face a little, though he was slowly turning Weasley red in the face. This was not normal for George. He usually could be quite cocky with women and not embarrass at all. But something was different with Angelina. They had history and using his old lines on her seemed suddenly quite beneath her dignity, and his. He detached the feathers from the long metal grip and showed her. "See?" he said demonstrating the different parts.

"Oh," she replied politely as he began to screw the feathers back on to the dart shaft. "I didn't realize they _came_ apart." Angelina was game for a little flirting.

George felt Angelina's rapt attention and had difficulty focusing on the job at hand with her standing so close and the irresistible view of just the right amount of tantalizing breasts peaking out from her white v-neck t-shirt. He fumbled and inadvertently cross threaded the feathers and shaft when reattaching them. Not one to miss an opportunity, Angelina mused as he mishandled the instrument. "You don't seem to screw very well, George."

George froze a second and recovered almost instantaneously. "Yeah, seem to have put my shaft in all crooked. But sometimes, big results speak for themselves," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

She cocked an amused eyebrow at him, and smiled somewhat seductively.

He cleared his throat as he came round behind her, having her stand back behind the raised wood on the floor that marked where they were allowed to shoot from, seven feet nine and a quarter inches from the board. "Right, now, you stand behind the oche and firmly grip the shaft with your preferred hand and pull back..." Angelina burst out laughing. "I'm serious!" The heat rose in her face as she looked back at him. They looked at each other a moment, lost in the other's eyes. She turned back to face the dart board, his lips so close to her ear, speaking low and slow so that only she could hear.

"So you firmly grip the shaft, and pull back and thrust forward, leaning your whole body into it. You have to feel it as an extension of your arm, your hand, your fingers and follow through...to... completion." He said slowly as she threw the dart.

Angelina kept her eyes on the dart board in front of her. It was safer than looking at George. She felt the flush of her skin and the heat rise up her neck into her cheeks. Her breasts were suddenly hard and quite visible through her thin clingy shirt. She licked her suddenly dry lips. _Does he feel it too? Am I being a fool to think that George Weasley could want me? Care for me? Could he be serious enough to want me for more than just a fling? Do I look back?_ _Or walk forward out of the heat of the personal space that we've both invaded?_

Pulled by a magnetism that she could not explain she slowly turned her face to him. In that moment, everything changed. In that moment she saw George Weasley, the wise-cracking, fun loving joke shop owner with his front laid down before her. Their eyes met and mouths parted in beckoning invitation. The heat between them was undeniable and she just wanted to leave with him immediately and get her hands all over him.

Minds connecting, George immediately dropped a few galleons on the table and escorted her out of the pub. They found a public floo and transported together to the nearest junction in Diagon Alley. Once they had rounded the corner behind the shop to the bottom of the staircase that led to the apartment entrance, he turned to her, waiting for her to indicate if she wanted to come up.

Angelina had had nothing more than kissing George on her mind all night and now she pounced on him. Grabbing him by the shirt collar she assailed his lips, invaded his mouth with her tongue and ran her slowly wound round his torso and up his back. She arched her body into his as he responded, leaving no doubt in his mind that sex was being offered and demanded.

He had taken her home and the fire of their kisses led them up the stairs towards sanctuary. Then he stopped and pulled back. This was not the first time he was kissing a girl up the stairs to his apartment, not by a long shot. But, this was the first time he felt something beyond the natural lust that he would feel for a girl a curvaceous and beautiful and Angelina Johnson.

"Not with you. Not like this. I want you. God knows I want you, but I need to know that it's not just the alcohol talking, or..." _Oh, shit! I've fucked this up!_

"You think the only reason I'd want you is if I've had a drop in? Or is there something more?" she challenged him.

_Yup, definitely fucked it up, Weasley._ He opened his mouth to answer, but something held him back. He didn't want to hear it confirmed from her that he was second choice.

The hurt look in her eyes undid him. He reached out to grab her arm and pull her back to him as she started to turn away and leave. "Don't leave thinking that. I can see it in your eyes. I, I want more with you. But, I'm not…him. If that's who you really want..." He swallowed hard although there was nothing going down his throat except his courage. His eyes betrayed for barely a second how much her answer meant to him. It had bothered him that she was Fred's girlfriend.

She studied his eyes, that were suddenly a deep well of emotion and she saw into his soul. Fred was between them. He had brought them together, but he could also keep them apart. She had gone to the Yule Ball with Fred and had a good time she had to admit, but the relationship had only lasted a little over a month. Angelina was a little more serious than Fred and wanted an exclusive relationship if there was going to be one. Not that she was in love with Fred, she just didn't want to be two-timed. She felt she deserved better than that type of treatment. Fred had just wanted to horse around, keep things simple and open. It wasn't a relationship she could get behind.

She caught it: the flicker in his eye, the pulse of the vein in his neck as he nervously swallowed, trying to steel himself for her to turn away. She pondered barely a moment how to handle that. This relationship had nothing to do with Fred with the exception that they both understood the sudden, tragic loss of a sibling.

Mariana Johnson had been 22 years old when she died at Hogwarts. Her parents were not there, and she alone escorted her sister's body down the lane from the broken school into Hogsmeade in the memorial procession. She told her parents how Mariana had fought bravely, but was struck in the back by Yaxley, as she fought side-by-side with Madam Hooch against the Dark Lord's minions.

Angie was now 22. From this point on, she would live a life that her older sister never got to and it felt strange and wrong. She would never have her older sister to ask how it felt to be this age or that, or how perspectives on topics changed with age and experience. She had lost her person to go to for advice, to the movies with, or shopping, or sitting on each other's beds, just talking.

George was feeling that from the moment his brother had died. This, they had in common. It felt so wrong, like the natural circle of life had been perverted. Grandparents die first, after a long happy life together, bickering, talking constantly about health issues at the end and saying whatever is on their minds with no stopper on their mouths and thoughts because at that age they felt they deserved that little "perk" to just be free with their feelings. Parents mourned the loss of their parents, but in a healthy way, acknowledging it was time for them to go and it was all right. But children, even adult children aren't supposed to die before their parents. This was indeed a perversion of life, and it tore out the gut as easily as a butcher's blade.

But why didn't people think of the pain it inflicted on their brothers and sisters?—their confidants, their best friends, their sparring buddies both verbal and physical, their playmates, their generational equals in the pecking order of the household. They were young and therefore resilient, and people thought they could and would go on in their own "self-interested" way. If they only knew how much loss preoccupied their thoughts, especially when alone.

It had been the topic of conversation while they were walking along the riverfront. A tear had escaped her, and though she tried to hide that fact from George, he seemed to tune right into her and took her hand in his. She couldn't stop thinking of how kind and generous he could be and a hard lump had formed in her throat. She tried to conceal her emotions that were all over the place: mourning for her sister while she relished the closeness with this tall, wonderful man beside her and the guilt for wanting more with him all of a sudden instead of focusing on Mariana. Before she knew it, his arms were around her and she was crying like a baby in his arms. She wailed like she had never done before at her loss. Of course she had wept before, but this gut wrenching overtook her and, with George, she was upsettingly helpless against letting her feelings out—good and bad.

And she was just as helpless now as he came dangerously close to implying she was an idiot for not knowing who she was with. Damn, this man for bringing out emotions in her that teetered on losing control at both ends of the spectrum.

"Who I _really_ want? Oh, damn it George! Did you think all night I was daft enough to not know who I was with?" she demanded incredulously. "I know very well who I'm with. And for your information, it was YOU I wanted to go to the Yule Ball with, if that's what bothering you, but YOU—DIDN'T—ASK!" With each word she poked an accusatory finger in his chest. "I discovered through the next month that looks are not interchangeable, you idiot. It was you I was actually attracted to, and it still is now. And, by the way, absolutely nothing happened back then."

_Nothing happened. Nothing happened? Nothing happened!_ Then what she said registered with him. "Me?"

"Yes, you!" she said heatedly and annoyed that he hadn't caught on already.

Instantly he pulled her to him, his mouth crashing down on hers as he lost any reason to hold back. He had always found her attractive and fun and the year she captained the team and became a hard-core serious team leader, demanding and strong; he found her even more of a turn on. But she had gone out with Fred, and she was just off-limits in his mind. Fred never spoke about his relationship with Angie to his twin, and George was grateful that he hadn't. He wasn't sure he could take listening to Fred talk about anything they might have done together.

All George could think about was that he could finally touch her. He had always stared at her ass and when she rode a broom. All he could think was the broom was having all the fun. Visions of her riding a broom stick assailed him. He wanted to be that broom so badly. His fantasies of touching her, and making love to her in the team dressing room, the Gryffindor spectator box, and even center-field of the pitch all came rushing in.

His hands moved to her ass and touched. He let his fingertips smoothly careen down the slope of her curves before cupping her cheeks and pulling her into him roughly. Their hips met and moved against one another in an age old rhythm. Even with the barrier of clothing their bodies enjoyed each other as they coupled everywhere, lips, tongues, hands, chests, stomachs. He pulled one leg up to his waist to get closer to her, and moved her against the wall, trapping her, his erection hard against her abdomen. He had thought he had gotten this girl out of his head years ago, but they kept meeting up again, and kept starting over under new circumstances. Now, all his dreams were coming true. He feared this could slip away from him. He eased up; afraid he might have frightened her in his enthusiasm by pushing her up against the wall. Somehow, he had to make sure she understood there was more here, with her. He wanted more. She challenged him, she matched him, she gave as good as she got. She was the most extraordinary girl he had ever met and she even had a wicked sense of humour. And damn, if she didn't have the most heavenly eyes to lose his way in.

"Oh, Christ! Don't stop now, Weasley. 'Cause I want to fuck you blue."

"How patriotic of you," he breathed, his eyes quickly indicating his red hair. His alabaster white skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat as he quickly moved her backwards to his bedroom, shut the door and cast a muffling charm and began the worship of her body.

oOo

Ron's voice brought her mind back to the present. "Ah-hah!" he said awkwardly as he finally found a clean glass. He debated how much to say to her. "Well, the first summer after the battle was a little rough at times," he said as he measured the required amounts of each liquid into the tomato juice, stirred, and then emptied the rest of the can into the glass and stirred again, this time with 3 ice cubes for the required sudden temperature change that made all the difference.

"You don't even need to look up the potion ingredients, do you?"

Ron smiled uncomfortably. No, he didn't. He had perfected making the detoxifying drink after two weekends of George's binging. He would not say George had developed a problem, but had it lasted longer than 3 months, he would have been concerned.

"He's a lot better now," he said simply. He wasn't one to point fingers. There were nights when he joined George and drank to forget too, but it was a random occasion, and Hermione was always there for him. Usually, he became more fun when he had too much to drink and could keep everyone in stitches with transfiguration jokes. One time he transformed his hair into a Chudley Cannons hat. But it wouldn't come off and he had to get Hermione to transfigure it back for him. She had refused to do it for a day, thinking it served him right for pulling his wand out while drunk; a cardinal no-no when one had imbibed too much.

"Yeah, he looked better, a lot better than at the Commemoration Ceremony. Rough on him that day at times," Angelina commented sympathetically, thinking of their conversation after the unveiling of the bronze statue that Hermione's mother had designed and donated to the Magical Community on the first anniversary of the battle.

"Yeah, we all had our moments," Ron commented wistfully.

"I lost my sister, Mariana." she confided.

Ron looked up at her with genuine sympathy. "I didn't know. I'm sorry," he said a little hoarsely. Sometimes Fred's loss could stab him in the stomach at the strangest times. For a few seconds he and Angelina understood each other completely. He had Hermione to talk to. Sometimes he would be very quiet when it bothered him. Hermione would just sit with him and take his hand, or he would lie down, his head in her lap as she gently ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. They had each other.

She nodded sadly, surprised and yet not that George had not divulged that bit of information. For all his charm and easy manner, George was very private, much more so than Fred. She appreciated that on a new level at this moment. "We all seem to have a little more in common than just Hogwarts and quidditch."

"Crappy thing to bond over."

"Yeah, that's for sure," she sighed. "But George has helped. Makes me smile again. We went out for lunch last month, then again last week. I wondered if it was silly to come by yesterday. It would have been her 24th birthday," she added in explanation. "But he helped and it's been nice."

"Listen, Angelina, you don't have to explain being on the couch. Even if you stayed, you know, elsewhere in the apartment, you wouldn't have to explain anything. Really. It's none of my business and to tell you the truth, uh," he tried to figure out a way of saying he approved without it sounding condescending. "It's good to see you around. Hope it's more often." He finished stirring the contents seven revolutions and handed it to her.

"Thanks, Ron," she said with evident double-entendre. She took a sip of the drink gratefully, looking at the younger brother of her friend. They had played quidditch together one year, but that was as far as she really knew him. He was always quiet around her before. She guessed he might be a little intimidated by the older girl who captained the team that awkward year under Umbridge. She looked him over in a new light, appreciating the more mature Ron Weasley. Her esteem of him rose significantly.

That morning was seven months ago. He was lost in his thoughts and coming to the happy conclusion that his leaving was the right thing for George now too. Angie was like a breath of fresh air for him. He was reinvigorated, smiling genuinely again and his concentration levels had been coming back—with the exception of being distracted by Angie which seemed a good and healthy distraction to Ron. He barely noticed when Hermione turned to him and rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat a moment.

"How long have you been awake?" she said quietly as she kissed his chest, and draped her arm across him.


	3. To Speak and to Listen

Chapter 3: To Speak and to Listen

Note: Chapter 2 has been revised to include more of Angie's background and the date with George. Sorry, I uploaded in a rush to get going on vacation. So if the subplot interests you, you should re-read the date section. Thanks to Kari for a solid review.

For some reason, Hermione woke. Serenely, she opened an eye slightly. Surely it wasn't morning already. It felt like she'd only gotten a few hours of sleep. Relief. Her eye met the darkness of the room so she closed it again. Her foot lazily slid over the middle of the bed in search of Ron. Normally, she would meet his calf and give it a mild caress in the night—the little things that spoke of cherishing your partner without the demand of supplication. She loved that about their nights in bed together. He would often pat her hip lightly, or kiss her shoulder, and sometimes a light caress down her arm and a blown kiss in the night air would precede his return to full slumber.

Tonight, her foot met emptiness. She moved it a little further up and found his toes. Ouch. She would have to remind him to cut his toenails in the morning. Slowly the fact that his feet were higher than usual intruded on her thoughts of getting back to sleep. He was half sitting up in bed, his pillow bunched up for him to lean against the headboard. His breathing was steady, but not in sleep. He was troubled.

She tried to clear her mind of the fog a little more. Slowly her mind churned to the surface the last topic of conversation: moving in together. Her heart sank.

She moved over to him and draped her arm across his midsection, kissing his chest over his heart as she lay her head down on him. "How long have you been awake?" Hermione queried sleepily—not quite sure she wanted to entirely wake up for a real conversation. But, oddly enough, she enjoyed their talks in the middle of the night. There were no diversions of any sort. It was just them, cuddled in each other's arms, savoring the closeness, and the light caressing touches mirrored their happiness together as a couple. Others may see them banter, him teasing her, her reprimanding him, but others never saw these private moments together that solidified their relationship. These were just as personal and precious as their love making. Actually, it was making love, but just a different position. Here, their minds and thoughts opened to each other instead of their bodies and she reveled in the sensations it created deep in her heart.

Ron started at her sudden movement and sleepy voice in the dark. He stroked her hair with his left hand and held her arm at her wrist with his right. Tilting his head to kiss the top of her head, he smiled into her hair. "Oh, a while. Sorry I woke you."

"What's bothering you?"

"Nothing. Everything," he sighed.

"Too cryptic for…uh, two o'clock in the morning, sweetie," she said after lifting her head to look at the time and then lying back down. "Are you having second thoughts about moving in together?" She asked in a matter of fact tone, but he knew she wanted it very much. He hadn't seen her eyes light up like that since the new edition of _Hogwarts: A History_ came out and the battle they had fought in had been added. He finally read the book, well, the section that dealt with the war they had just fought.

"None whatsoever. I'd been thinking along those lines lately myself. Just…"

"Tomorrow?" she guessed wisely.

"Yeah."

"You'll be great. You'll be in your element."

"You realize I won't be in touch due to security restrictions. No owls even. Only emergency messages via the department at the Ministry. Not until next Friday night—Christmas Eve," he said a little disappointed.

"I know. It's a little weird, but I understand their need to keep the training facility completely secure. But you sound as if YOU, Ronald Weasley, actually want to go Christmas shopping?" she yawned.

"No! I'd rather eat Hagrid's rock cakes, and that would be as risky as one-ply toilet paper." She laughed silently, her body mildly quaking her mirth. "Don't put words in my mouth!" he teased and kissed her hair again.

"Shopping has its merits."

"Name one."

"Books, lingerie." She raised her eyebrows suggestively though he couldn't see her face at this angle. But he could hear the spring in her voice and smiled.

"Mmm. That does sound more attractive than the constant testing," he commented.

So that's what was bothering him, tests. "Very intensive course. Your tests are on Wednesday and Friday mornings, right?"

"Yes, and a comprehensive on Sunday—at least there's only one of those. I'll be finished the second Friday. So I'm afraid, love, I wouldn't be in contact much at night even if I were allowed to since Mondays are big homework nights to get done for Tuesday's lessons, then study Tuesday night for the test. They say they are very thorough," he sighed, troubled. "Harry's a bit nervous about them too. We're both out of practice a bit—studying for tests."

She laughed at that. "Practice?"

"What? I studied at Hogwarts," he said indignantly. "I was not at your insane level, I admit, but I did study when it was important. Uh—I meant insane in the nicest possible way." He could feel her smile against his chest. "Just..." he sighed, trying to figure out how to confide in her without betraying how insecure and inadequate he felt at his new job. "I'm not sure I should be there, on advanced training."

"Harry is, or he wouldn't have suggested you go too," she rationalized.

"Harry is, well, he's not the boss, but you can see there's not one Auror in that department who would not accept him in that position, considering what he did with Voldemort. You can feel it coming, and you know, I think it'll be a good fit. But me, well, I didn't do the 3 years of training the others did to get their jobs."

"Neither did Harry," she reasoned in an even tone.

"Special circumstance there though, as I said; he's got the Voldemort card."

"And you don't? Ron, you fought in that battle as much as anyone, as much as any Auror who arrived, any teacher, and any member of the Order. They also know you were on the run with Harry and he even told the press conference that you had saved his life, and were an integral part in helping to take down that maniac. If you're worried about being worthy of your job, your experience in the field certainly outweighs a bunch of courses. There's more to life than just books and cleverness," she said as her hand lazily went towards his groin. "You've been in the thick," her hand gently smoothed over his manhood, "of things since you met Harry." She giggled slightly as he reacted to her touch.

"Sweetheart, don't rub the lamp if you don't want to see the genie."

She smiled; glad she lightened his mood somewhat. Then she brought her hand back up to his chest, not wanting to initiate love making at this time. She wasn't done reminding him how much he had accomplished. "I believe it was your strategy that got Harry through that deadly chess game and you were just 12 years old at the time. You went into the unknown when you were 13, into that God-forsaken chamber to save your sister. You put yourself on the line to save Serius without a moment's hesitation, and returned there to infiltrate under highly dangerous conditions to help find the locket. You seem to be forgetting that you've actually been apprenticing this job for most of your life. Don't forget they put your face on a Chocolate Frog Card. How many Aurors can say that?"

"Ah, the proudest moment of my life. Thank you very much!" He glanced at the framed trio of Chocolate Frog cards on the wall, depicting him, Harry and Hermione. It had been a gift from Ginny who seemed to get over Harry's leaving her as fear for his safety consumed her days. After the battle, she had sought out her brother too and, very uncharacteristically, teared up and hugged him deeply, grateful that he was all right. Her usual annoyance at his protectiveness gone for a moment. She had realized how safe she felt at Hogwarts with him there looking out for her, and how much she actually did miss him too.

Hermione smiled and chuckled lightly. "Ron? Don't you think I noticed that you've kept studying all along, on your own?"

"What?"

"You spoke to Andromeda, and you borrowed all of Tonks' training books on stealth and defense."

"Yeah."

"Well? You know everything the others do," she reminded him.

"Never certified on anything though. They don't know that I've learned it all in theory—but practical application…Do you think they, the other Aurors are, you know, uneasy going into the field with me?"

"Honestly? No. And you know what else? I don't worry about you the way I thought I might. There's the natural concern of having someone you love in this line of work, but since realizing you still took being an Auror one day seriously and were preparing accordingly for it, I'm much more comfortable with it." She propped herself up on her elbow and turned to face him, cupping his cheek. "I am so proud of you. You never gave up your dream. Sometimes, I wondered why you hid it from me while I was at Hogwarts."

"Wanted to surprise you. But, that curious brain in your head just has to know everything," he grumbled jokingly and he pulled her to his chest and held her close. "But, I think I've still got a few surprises left for you. Well, I hope. I guess I better fill you in on one before I leave."

"Surprise? What?" She sat up immediately, looking at him expectantly in the semi-darkness like a little girl waiting for a present.

"Christmas at the Burrow, this year."

"Ron that would be lovely, but my parents…"

"Are coming too, for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day," he said finishing her sentence.

"What? Really?"

"Yup, it's all arranged. Monica would only agree to it if she could help with the meal. Uh, let me see, she said she was making pigs in blanket and Christmas pudding, and Del is already planning to make a large batch of his wicked Irish Cream that, until now, only I've been lucky enough to sample. He was going on about using a more expensive brand of scotch in it this time. He seemed excited to come," he smiled.

"Oh, yes. Dad mentioned he would love to see where you grew up. Would it be too cold to take him up for a broom ride? You know, he would love that. He has more of a daredevil streak in him than Mum. He loves heights and roller coasters. He would get such a kick out of that, Ron."

"Sounds like a plan, weather permitting, of course. Your father cracks me up, the things he's into. Happy Christmas, Love." Their lips sought each other, displaying their love for one another.

"What other surprises, honey?" she whispered playfully, her nails making lazy circles over his stomach and chest.

"Look who's nosey! You haven't been snooping through my wallet for receipts, have you? Trying to find out what I got you for Christmas?"

"I would never! I'm shocked! I'm…" she began in mock indignation. But suddenly she found herself lying on her back, cradled in his arms and lips covering hers in a deep sensuous kiss that stopped any kind of thought. As his lips slowly left hers, his right hand softly cupped her cheek. "There is nothing and no one more precious to me in the world," he said softly. "Thank you, for always having my back."

"Always, my love."

"I'll always have yours too!" he said playfully while his hand quickly found her butt cheek and he squeezed. She giggled and slapped his hand before she reached up to pull him in for another sweet and loving kiss. When they parted, they stared at each other in the moonlight, the festive lights of the Alley had turned off at midnight. They connected on so many levels now, and sometimes it was just so hard to not be together every night. But that would soon end.

"I guess we should try and get some sleep?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "I guess." He kissed her one more time before settling back on his pillow. "Goodnight, Sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Honey."

"Wanna hear a joke?"

"Hmm?"

"I fart and you choke!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Ronald! That's awful!"

He smirked, his hands grabbing for the sheets. "Wanna hear another? I fart and you smother!" At that he pulled the sheets over her head and trapped her under them.

"Ron!" she cried in distress. Her legs and arms were visible through the sheet as they punched and kicked at it to break the suffocating bubble.

He lifted the sheets, releasing her, chortling all the while. "Oh, lighten up. I didn't do it! But I could if you wanted me to! Here, pull my finger!"

"Arghh!" she huffed in exasperation. "At least I'll have almost two weeks of fresh air." She rolled to her side of the bed and punched her pillow into shape. "This is what I get for staying over on a Sunday night. Men!"

"Oh, honey, I am going to miss you. You're so easy to get!"

A/N: Anyone notice anything about the chapter title?

I had originally planned on "A" titles, the same way the Rs worked for ARR. The first was to be Anticipation, followed by Anxiety, this one was Amity, others were Ambush, and Antics. However, since I wrote "Amity and Anxiety", I thought that was I was plagiarizing myself. LOL. Anyway, once I decided on this chapter title and one coming up when they meet up again, well, I thought they might be a better fit for where the story was going to end.


	4. Wicked Witch

Chapter 4: Wicked Witch

Normally, Hermione didn't stay at Ron's on Sunday nights. That was usually reserved for Sunday dinner, alternating between her parents' house or the Burrow. But as Ron was leaving, she decided to stay and it turned out to be a momentous decision. Moving in together, apartment hunting with Ron was something to look forward too. She couldn't wait to present him with her list of possible rentals when he returned. He would be off between Christmas and New Year's, like her, and they could really get into apartment hunting together.

Hermione was in a state somewhere between sleep and consciousness. She heard the shower across the hall turn off and wondered vaguely if it was Ron or George. Her body was slowly becoming attuned to the waking day in Diagon Alley. The odd bird chirped even in December, and morning pedestrian traffic noise was beginning, a sure sign that his alarm was going to go off any moment now and she would be mildly annoyed at being awake before its activation.

Lying on her stomach with her arms up around her head and hugging her pillow, the sheets down around her waist in the warm room. She inhaled deeply and moved her leg slowly in her usual way across the middle of the queen size bed they shared, hoping to meet resistance in the form of another leg there. There was none. That alone brought her a step closer to full consciousness as her mind began its foggy search for her lover. Okay, it's Ron in the loo, she thought. She lifted her head and opened her eyes and let them adjust to the light, a knowing smile spreading across her features. She grabbed the bottle of contraceptive potion and quickly downed a swallow. She rolled over and lay on her back across the bed parallel to the pillows and positioned the white sheet snugly, framing the curves of her body so that it covered just enough of her breasts to leave a tantalizing vision for him when he walked into the room. One leg lay flat and while the other, she decided, would rise up and bend at the knee when he entered. Her hair, that he loved so much, tumbled over the side of the bed. She smiled. J_ust you wait Ronald Weasley until you see what I've got planned for you._

Of course, if she admitted it, her plan was self serving in two ways. First, she would likely have mind-boggling sex first thing on a Monday morning. Ron, she discovered, was morning person. What a way to start her week! Second, it would help to bring on her cycle which was due later in the day. Stimulating its debut always helped reduce the mild low back pain she felt before her uterus finally went to work. Once that part was over, she was always in a better mood.

She didn't wait long when she heard the bathroom door creak open followed by their bedroom door and the familiar heavy footsteps coming toward her. She had seen that vision ambling toward her before—filled out chest and shoulders touchably bare, his lower half wrapped in a white bath towel hiding his magnetic mystery. The first time she'd seen him like that was in their hotel room in Australia as they got ready for their first real date. Her nostrils flared in anticipation of him. He would smell so good.

Her lips curved into a slow smile at the memory. She tilted her head to the night stand. On it was a lamp with her red bra dangling precariously from its finial—a reminder of their particularly passionate night. Beneath the clasp she spied what she was looking for: the framed picture of her and Ron at the top of Sydney Harbor Bridge she had given him the first Christmas they spent as a couple.

The couple in the picture radiated happiness together, his arms protectively cuddling her hid the safety loop she was attached too. Ron's smile was serene, as if he still couldn't quite believe he was on vacation with her and wasn't sure if he should believe it whole heartedly. But the spark in his eyes betrayed the exhilaration he felt with the wind blowing his hair and the water and cityscape behind them. She had been nervous to go up, but it was one of the happiest and most exhilarating moments of her life. She was not fond of heights, but ascended because Ron just seemed to come so alive at the prospect of the adventure. She hoped she could begin to overcome this fear. He told her, he said he would be there to support her if she needed him, all the way.

Once above, the view had been so breath taking and she was sharing it with him, truly beginning their special moments together that she hoped would add up to a life time of personal memories. She would never have gone up there without him. Then again, she would never have taken the Mare-Go potion and gotten through the night of nightmares without him either. He had a way of getting her to overcome her fears, she realized. She wanted to be strong for him as much as for herself and her personal pride of accomplishment that invigorated her. She absorbed his pride of her as well, and it buoyed her forward. He encouraged her, sometimes quietly in a look, other times with words, sometimes with a supportive hand on her arm or low back. With him growing more steady and sure of himself too as their relationship progressed, she felt even more attracted to him and knew she was ready for the next step of their relationship: sex.

She doubted she would have had sex with any boyfriend three weeks and three days after going out with them. But, she had not known _him_ a mere twenty-four days. They had been friends for seven years. The last few years of that she had begun to fantasize about him—his lips, his tongue, his arse. She inhaled at that thought, air completely filling her lungs and pushing her breasts against the tight, white sheet. Damn, he had a nice arse. She loved wrapping her hands around him and cupping those smooth, soft and muscled cheeks, squeezing and pulling him into her harder and harder, faster and faster. She shook her head a moment, suddenly wet in expectancy. He would not deny her, she knew it, even though he had set the alarm early so he could go to the Ministry and then to the base to get settled and tour the training facility.

The next step. She would not say that she ever had a fear of the next step with Ron, though. Curiosity about sex was natural. Intrigue and fascination fueled her desire to experience the touch of another who wanted to touch and feel her in return. She loved sex. Correction: she loved sex with Ron. She had never wanted anyone else' hands on her body, or her hands on anyone but him. She had tried to think of Viktor that way for all of about thirty seconds during fifth year— oddly enough, not even when they actually went out in fourth year and her lips connected with his. The whole time she had been too nervous thinking that if Ron were to see her kissing Viktor, she might as well betray any chance she had of getting him to think of her as a girl in the future. It was a constant distraction and fear that kept her from sinking deeply into any snog she had with Viktor. She wrote to Viktor after he returned to Bulgaria, her friend, and even tried to consider him in THAT way when he invited her to visit. It seemed Ron would never look at her the way she dreamed, maybe she should relax, let go of Ron and try with Viktor. But it just didn't work. She wanted Ron for so long that her teeth hurt just thinking about him. Her mouth yearned to connect so much that she found her head move slightly, her lips parting to an imaginary Ron in front of her during those years of denial.

But now she had him, and he her. And now when her face betrayed her want, he leaned in unabashedly to fulfill her. What she hadn't expected was that he made her overcome her natural reserve. With him she could be totally free, wild if she felt like it, say what she wanted—what she felt, and he was more than willing to oblige. He encouraged her to be as physical as she dreamed, take control if she wanted, or be controlled if she desired. Be light and playful, or primal with hunger.

Ron was a generous lover, but he was demanding also. He wanted her totally in the moment and not let her head rule her or him, but let their bodies and their needs guide them to satiation. And oh, if the man wasn't right. When she let go, she could truly let go. And she could not get enough of how he responded to her and it made her feel so incredibly hot and desirable.

The effect she could have on him had been discovered slowly. When she walked up to him at Bill and Fleur's wedding, the expression on his face and the fact that he had said "Wow!" when he looked at her, sent a heat throughout her though she played it cool. She couldn't help but think, _she_ had turned his head. _She_ had put an amazed look on his face. Angie's red dress in Australia had practically made his eyes pop out of his head—she certainly felt something pop out slightly from his trousers before he regained composure and the went out for supper. But his complimentary words meant as much to her as the beautiful, astonished expression on his face—and she was the cause of it.

This was a different kind of magic, and she was game to explore it with him, and only him. Dancing that night, closing her eyes and just feeling his body come alive in her arms, or boldly staring at him with a blazing heated lust; he responded to her as if she were the only woman in the world. And when in bed together, just letting the physical sensations rock her body, pushing him, demanding him, he responded just as passionately if not more, requiring more from her, for her. He became harder, lasted longer for her to orgasm more often. He loved her tits and she was unashamed to use them to spur him on. She knew what she wanted and she knew how to get it from him.

She had glanced quickly at how her breasts were displayed for him just before he turned to her. Her eyebrows rose in approval. These are his breaking point. She smirked in satisfaction, listening as the floorboards creaked his short journey towards her and their bed.

Ron had closed the door and turned to continue to his closet when a beautiful sculpted mountain rose in his peripheral vision. Her long, luscious leg beckoned to him. He turned completely towards the bed and was struck by what awaited his sight. Hermione sprawled out, the sheet tightly caressing her torso and the perfect voluptuous hills of her breasts beckoning to him, accentuating the deep valley in between. He felt the blood drain from his head and go south immediately as he imagined thrusting his cock into that valley, with Hermione's hands pushing her breasts together to squeeze him.

A seductive smile crossed her upside down features. She tilted her head toward the nightstand, exposing her beautiful neck to him. Her hands slowly moved to her breasts, manipulating the mounds into perky peaks visible through the sheets. Heart rates increased. His mouth dropped open when her right hand slowly, sensuously left her tit to slide down her belly to her pussy. His breath halted a moment as he watched her touch herself. His tongue, instinctively licked his lips as he watched in fascination, his interest rising. Her fingers began to gently knead her folds and then part them. He was enraptured as she inserted one finger and then another, stimulating herself. His name escaped her lips as she skillfully brought herself over the edge.

"Blimey, Hermione. You're so fucking hot first thing in the morning," he said in fascination. Grabbing his wand from the dresser, he flourished it towards the door in a silent muffling incantation. He dropped the wand quickly back on the dresser.

"Not hot enough, Ron," she breathed like the wind. "My mouth had nothing to do," she complained as she eyed the large bulge pushing out his towel. Her mouth opened, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips for him. "Come, over here, now." She played her words with just the right inflection and pause to make sure he understood her pun.

Drawn to her, his feet moved forward on automatic. What Hermione wanted, Hermione got. When close enough, she reached over her head and ripped the towel off him, releasing his dick that sprung towards her like a divining rod finding an oasis in the desert. She grabbed his cock firmly and pumped him a few times before positioning him so that he was angled over her face, his hands supporting him like a tent beside her hips. Slowly, watching the agony on his face, she took him in the heat of her mouth, her lips sensuously closing in around him as her tongue tickled his head and then slid down his length. He gasped and then shivered slightly at the sensations she created in him. He could feel his testicles ascend, primed and ready to ejaculate, but he held back, enjoying the stimulation going on under him. Tit-fucking could wait.

He stared wantonly at her breasts jiggling as she worked him, and he hardened more under her ministrations and began thrusting into her mouth. His eyes moved to the requirement so evident in her writhing legs. Supporting himself on his left hand, his right parted her legs and found her saturated in need. "You're so drenched," he said softly to her. He licked his lips as his mouth descended on her in reciprocation.

She squealed under him in delight, panting as she burst off him with a pop in response. If her head could dig into the mattress more, it did as she arched her pelvis into his face, pushing against him as his skilled tongue found her sensitive nub and played and flicked her into frenzy. She latched on to him again, pumping him hard, matching his rhythm below. She erupted into his mouth, his eyes widening at the double sensation she created at both his heads. Barely a moment later he followed her lead and collapsed on her and rolled to his side, panting and spent.

"Oh, fucking wow! Never done it that way before. You have the most brilliant, wicked ideas," he finished. "Early arrival, be damned!" he said as he grabbed her hand and pulled her on top of him, the mouths colliding in a knowing way, each tasting themselves on the other, fingers running freely through hair, pulling and demanding a moment more, until... Slowly, starting at the base of her neck, his fingers ran down the center of her back to the sensitive spot on her spine.

"Ron! Ron, you know you can't touch me there…unless…you're ready to…hmmm. Oh…Just tell me to shut up, now!" she exhaled. She arched her back, her breasts at his face. Noting his interest, she took hold of them in her hands. Then she put two fingers deep into her mouth, making sure he was watching and delighted as the lust for her smoldered in his eyes again. Her now wet fingers played with each of her nipples as she straddled him. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he devoured her with his eyes. Then she held her breasts out to him, serving him, but denying him. "You want these, don't you?"

"Fuck, yes!" he moaned.

She leaned forward, teasing his lips with each before deciding which he could have when he began to nip at her. _Works every time. Serves him right if he was going to hit the spot on my back and make me wait for him to harden again. Two can play that game._ "You can have one, if you harden up again for me. Show me, Ron. Show me you want me. Show me how much you need to wrap your tongue around one, squeezing with your hand as my pussy rubs against your long…hard… cock that I just had my mouth around, sucking you."

Instantly she felt him rise and push against her. "You're a fucking great wizard, Ron Weasley," she taunted him and then took a tit and placed it in his mouth. She rose up to settle back down immediately and consume him below. She began to slowly ride him as he sucked her breasts, a little rougher than usual.

He broke off in a dazed passion as he changed position slightly, grabbed her hips and pushed off the mattress, plunging deep into her to. "And you…Hermione Granger…are a fucking…wicked…witch!" he panted. A moment later they shared the delights of ecstasy one more time that morning.

Following a few moments of cuddling, Hermione felt a change in her womb and immediately got up to shower. Ron joined her in the bathroom to wash his face and hands. Then he left to make them breakfast.

He turned from the stove with a frying pan of scrambled eggs in his hand only to see Hermione walk barefoot into the kitchen in one of Ron's oversized Chudley Cannons t-shirts—the white one with the small orange logo over her left breast. Her hair was still wet and slowly beginning to curl on its own as it began to dry. He stared at her and suddenly discovered he had a new fantasy.

"Uh, you look great," he smiled as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Ron, I'm in a t-shirt."

"You fill it out better than I do. Eggs, tomato, cantaloupe and toast, and tea should be ready in a minute."

"Wow! Full treatment. I need to be here Monday mornings more often."

He winked at her. "You will, remember? Although, let's be honest, this is not normal for a weekday." He moved to the small table to dish the eggs into their plates while Hermione grabbed a glass from the cupboard and went to the sink to get some water. She reached for the tap to turn it on when suddenly Ron heard a yelp from behind him. He spun around quickly only to see the vegetable sprayer stuck on and spraying Hermione in the chest, causing the thin white t-shirt to cling to her breasts instantly as they nippled up, instantly visible and outlining her gorgeous shapely mounds and even the valley of her navel. Her blue knickers also became evident under the sopping white t-shirt.

In shock at what was happening, it took Hermione a second before she switched off the tap and turned to Ron, her mouth open in pure astonishment, her hands wide open at her sides. The glass had dropped to the floor and shattered. Ron quickly crossed the room and dropped the empty pan back on the stove, grabbing a tea towel to wipe her down.

"Ron! What the…"

"Don't move! You don't have shoes on!" He wiped the excess water off her, suddenly enjoying the view of Hermione in a clingy wet t-shirt, and how obviously cold she was. He stopped and appraised her moment and smiled knowingly at her as his eyebrows rose suggestively. "Nipply!" he teased.

"Ron! Don't be a prat! Get me some shoes!"

"Uh, right! Yeah, just a sec," he said, amused at the situation and turned toward the bedroom to get her trainers.

From the hallway, Angie darted out of George's room, already fully dressed for work, and headed straight for the kitchen. She stopped suddenly, spying Hermione standing frozen and shivering, and soaking wet, glass splayed out around her. Her eyes popped. "Oh, Hermione! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she winced. "That was meant for George!"

"What was meant for me? What's going on?" George said entering the room clad only in his track pants, following the sound of commotion in his kitchen.

Hermione was now knocked out of her stunned position seeing George enter the kitchen, her arms flew to cross over her practically naked outline, but not before George's eyes popped wide open in flustered surprise. He began to laugh immediately and decided to leave the room on his own to preserve her modesty, but not before three voices assailed him, one coming from the Ron's room, to close his eyes and get out.

"Blimey! It's my kitchen! I think I have a right to know what's happening in my own kitchen!" he teased just to keep up appearances. But he was more than a little uncomfortable at having seen as much of his brother's girlfriend's body as they all were.

"Out!" bellowed Ron fiercely, coming back with trainers and a dressing gown for Hermione. He shot a glare at his brother that George had never seen before in Ron's eyes. That was one look, he decided, he was not about to cross, not even for a good laugh at that moment.

"Out!" screeched Angie and Hermione simultaneously, fingers pointed towards the bedroom from whence he came.

George backed out, shaking his head and muttering his resentment at not being allowed to partake in the show and complaining for their sake that he hadn't actually seen a thing.

Angie quickly got a broom and swept a path for Ron to get to Hermione, handing her the dressing gown to put on as he knelt in front of her and helped her put the shoes on. She was a little angry, but still more in shock at what happened. Ron on the other hand, realized the position he was in, kneeling in front of her. But right now he was on two knees. One knee would suffice for what he planned, he thought and his ears began to turn red. His eyes travelled up to hers as she crossed the gown over her front and tied the belt.

"What's wrong, Ron?" she questioned when she noticed his ears going red.

"Nothing," he blushed. She eyed him suspiciously. "It's just, that was an interesting show." That comment she believed. His cheeks reddened as she held the gown closer to her chest to warm. She placed a hand on his shoulder to balance herself to get the second shoe on and be able to move.

Angie was busy scouring the kitchen for small shards of glass that seemed to be everywhere. She looked up apologetically. "I'm sorry. That joke was meant for George," she said gesturing to the vegetable sprayer that had an elastic holding down the handle against the grip. "You aren't normally here Monday mornings, and Ron usually has cereal. I thought it was a safe joke, but it got the wrong person."

"No harm done", Hermione lied. She felt sure George had gotten a good eyeful before he turned around. She was thoroughly embarrassed.

"Can I come out now?" George yelled from his room. He felt like a little kid, unjustly sent to his room for misbehavior. _Who am I kidding? I deserved every time out I got._

"Yes!" the three chorused together. As George entered the room, he noted Angie dumping all the glass she had collected into the dustbin. She turned a little red as she looked at him.

"That was meant for you. It, sorta bombed," she said in disappointment.

George's eyes brightened. His girlfriend had played a practical joke on him. He was genuinely touched and amused. He felt ten feet tall all of a sudden. No girl had ever played a practical joke on him. He walked over to the sink and inspected her work as Hermione brushed passed him on her way to the bedroom to change. "Simple and effective, Ange. _And_, it didn't get me! Perfect execution!" he smirked as his arm came around her proudly. "My girl!" he said grinning at Ron.

"I disagree," piped up Ron in a good natured tone, rolling his eyes. He actually thought it was pretty funny even if Hermione didn't, yet. "I should probably let you know, Hermione and I decided last night to get our own place. So you need to be ready for a little less income to pay the bills, unless you plan to rent out the room, or..."

George looked at his younger brother straight in they eye, betraying nothing. He shrugged. "Well, if that's what you want, then go for it. Good for you. It's starting to get a little crowded here, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I think it's time. You're good with that?" he asked. George nodded. "How much notice do you want?"

"Don't need any. Just find what you want so I don't have to help you move twice, and I'm good," he said glancing at Angie who stood wide-eyed but said nothing. "I thought you were leaving early for your course."

"Well, yeah," Ron shrugged. "I didn't expect Hermione to stay the night. I'm only forty-five minutes off. Oh, well." He smiled awkwardly at his brother and Angie, thinking something was going on. He turned to join Hermione in the bedroom, leaving the cold eggs behind. "Breakfast is served. Help yourselves," he called back.

George and Angie stared at each other, and both broke into a grin. "Well, I didn't even have to tell him to leave. That was convenient," he said wrapping his arms around Angie and pulling her to him as he leaned against the counter. "Might I add that was a good joke, my love."

"Thank you. Coming from the master, I take that as a compliment."

"Never seen Granger so speechless in all my life," he mused.

"Hope that's all you noticed."

"Don't know what you're on about," he said innocently, but could not contain all his mirth as a grin slowly crossed his features. Suddenly he felt a good swat to the back of his head. "Ow!"

_A/N: Just as a side note: Did it bother anyone else that in DH2, the only Marauder left alive was the betrayer?__ Sorry, seen it seven times now. Why didn't they kill off Pettirgrew? _

_Everyone I know who has only seen the movie is asking me, what the hell happened with Dumbledore's family. I thought it very odd that they set up his pain and guilt during the cave scene in HBP, but did not follow through, just like the Mudblood carved into Hermione's arm. Why didn'__t they have a small scene, of someone taking it off her in the background even, if not the foreground? Ron and her sitting at the table—he could have been bandaging her arm and give her a little look—it would have done tons to tie up loose ends. Grrrr!_


	5. Family Preparations

Chapter 5: Family Preparations

Molly Weasley finally began to settle down to enjoy the festivities of the season. Guests and family would soon arrive. She had been baking feverishly and her low back ached. Everyone was going to be home this year, so she wanted to make it extra special. She made all her children's favourite foods. The magically extended table was laid out in her finest red brocade table cloth, patterned in holly with gold lace trim. It was set for a grand sit down meal with the whole family together. Each place setting alternated between green and white dishes as she didn't have enough of either to set the table entire with one set. Candles in matching green and white and trimmed with gold adorned the two ends. Napkins shaped into witch hats capped each wine goblet neatly. Finger foods awaited on the coffee and end tables. Garland hung from the mantle.

The tree stood tall and proud in the corner of the sitting room as it always did, waiting for each member of the family to arrive and make a wish before placing their personalized star ornament to the hymn We Three Kings. Molly always looked forward to that time of night, when they reached the chorus, singing _"Star of wonder, star of night/ Star with royal beauty bright/Westward leading, still proceeding/Guide us to thy Perfect Light". _All made a wish and placed their star, one by one, on the tree. This year, there would be a star for Harry to place. She smiled at that thought. The wedding would be a week later and more frantic preparations would take place. One banquet at a time, she reminded herself. She looked over the sitting room again, remembering the time she tried to move the tree to a different location, but found her children were very traditional. The next morning she discovered they had moved it back to its original location, minus a few ornaments which had not survived the manual transport from under aged wizards.

One more time she numbered off on her fingers the rooms and who would be sleeping where. She had been working feverishly putting double beds in some rooms, singles and cots in others. Rearranging the house to suit her children and their partners was time consuming; especially when plans seemed to change at the last minute and mess up whatever she had done already. Charlie was coming, then he wasn't, then he was again. Percy was once again coming and she just found out he had a girlfriend, Audrey. She still didn't know their plans yet and it irritated her that he hadn't settled that with her. She looked to the shelf with the extra place setting ready to go if he decided to bring her at the last minute. If truth be told, it wasn't really her kids coming home that had her wound up. It was the Muggles.

Monica and Del Granger were coming to spend Christmas with the Weasleys for the first time, as was Hermione, of course. The last two Christmases, Ron had spent with the Grangers. The house seemed to be getting so quiet, so…adult. The opening of presents now waited until everyone woke naturally by eight in the morning. The only constant through the years had been Ron, who would bang on everyone's door excitedly to get them up and start the day around the tree. But once all the kids were in their teenage years, everyone wanted morning tea and homemade muffins before beginning. It was a far cry from being woken before six in the morning by the pitter-patter of excited feet coming towards their parents' bed and jumping on them in uncontainable childish glee that Santa had come in the night. Her heart smiled at the memory.

Then, Ron had been at the Grangers' with Hermione for Christmas, and she missed his enthusiasm terribly. The arrival of Victoire had helped ease the creeping loneliness of children moving on with their lives into adulthood. Molly had hinted mildly to Ron that it would be nice to reverse it this year and Ron and Hermione spend Christmas at the Burrow. Ron had responded with a look of concern, as if this request were coming from another planet.

"Well, Mum," he began. "You know Hermione is all they have. That sort of really became very clear whenever I visit their house. It's so quiet. They really missed their daughter when she went to Hogwarts. I don't think I really appreciated that until I went there and saw how much they dote on her when she is in the house."

Molly looked at her son, slightly put out. "Are you saying I didn't miss you when you were away at school?"

_Merlin!_ Ron thought. _How am I going to get out of this one?_ "No, Mum. I didn't say that. It's just; Hermione is in our world so much. And as much as Christmas is important to you, it's as important to them. They have traditions too and I have been included these past two. I'm sorry. This is all coming out wrong. It's not that I don't want to be here, actually, I do. We _have_ been here for Christmas Eve, remember?" He was blundering about and he knew it. He sighed. "I just want to be with Hermione during the holidays, you know. And I'm going to be away on course now for the two weeks beforehand, so I won't see her." He sighed in frustration. "How did you and Dad feel when you were dating and the holidays, a time you're supposed to be together and appreciate each other, ends up pulling you apart by your own families?"

He held his breath and wondered if he had just dug another hole. Then he suggested something he thought would never fly anyway. "Would you consider having Hermione's parents here for Christmas Eve and maybe Christmas Day?"

She eyed her son. "Is there something special about this Christmas, Ron?"

"Hopefully," Ron he mumbled to himself.

"What, dear?"

"All Christmases are special, aren't they?" He recovered. He hid his disappointment at the times he spent them at Hogwarts because his parents were away visiting other siblings, like Charlie when Ron was in first year. He would never do that to his kids, he thought. _Whoa! That's getting ahead of myself! Or is it?_

"It's that important to you—to have them here? They wouldn't be frightened of all the magic, the Apparating and Disapparating?"

"No, Mum. I think they are used to it by now. Plus, I've been sorta teaching them wizarding traditions and songs. I gave them one of Dad's radios for them to listen to. They are aware of Wizarding news, as well as music." He shrugged non challantly, as if his actions were nothing out of the ordinary.

Molly Weasley looked at her son appraisingly. She wondered if he realized himself that he was already bridging their families. He had been changing so much these past three years; four actually, she corrected herself. He was not the same boy who left hurriedly with Harry and Hermione during his eldest brother's wedding celebrations when the Death Eaters attacked. She had not seen him for nine months. In that time, she had not slept well. The constant worry and all consuming fear that your child is in danger had not been assuaged by her magical clock which had dialed the whole family's whereabouts to the position of 'mortal danger'. It had never changed the whole nine months, aside from a 'travelling' indicator. It seemed its default position was always perilous that year. It gave her constant stomach aches.

The look on Ron's face when she saw him fully in the Great Hall after the battle was of a young man with knowledge of loss well beyond his years. His appreciation of family had been cemented in the time away and the tears of loss. Ron's work at the shop had served him well too, becoming much more outgoing with people as he had to constantly interact with strangers. And now, she pondered, she saw new facets of Ron that had begun to emerge seven months before. That was when Harry Potter, her daughter's fiancé, had offered him a job in the Auror Department. It had taken very little convincing on Harry's part for Ron to leave the shop and take up the profession that he had always wanted.

It was May 2nd, 2000, Victoire's first birthday. Normally, a young couple like Bill and Fleur would be celebrating the first anniversary of their child's birth in their home, going overboard in preparations as new young parents generally do only to discover they had done too much, exhausted themselves and the baby with an overload of activity and people about. Molly smiled. The child would have no memory of it, anyway. So Molly had asked if she could host the party. It had a two-fold purpose. One, of course was to celebrate the birth of her first grandchild. Any grandparent would love to do so if they were able. Two, it would help to take her mind off Fred.

Her chest tightened up at the thought of her son's death on the same day in 1998. Then memory faded into the mourning and celebration of Victoire's birth during the commemoration ceremony at Hogwarts the following year. In that moment of despair, as families came together and shared their stories of separation, incarceration, loss, and reunification, a beautiful baby girl was born amidst the tears, tributes and tribulations. It was a poignant reminder that life goes on. Happiness will search us out, she thought, and if truth be told, there was still much to be thankful for while Voldemort was in power. Her whole family had remained true to their values of honesty, love, peace, and tolerance. Even Percy had been disentangling himself slowly from the clutches of Voldemort's totalitarian regime. They had all come to realize the importance of the bond of family and love; something Tom Riddle never experienced and they were largely responsible for his lack of compassion and humanity .

The whole family was as one. Whether they came specifically for Victoire or for Fred, she did not know. But, she suspected that, like her, it was a little bit of both and this birthday, unlike any other future grandchild, would bring the family together—always.

Ron and Harry were eating the unicorn shaped cake that Molly had made for Victoire just outside the kitchen window. Hermione and Ginny were sitting at the picnic table looking at the quilt she had made and going over the intricacies of each square. Sunlight sparkled off the diamond engagement ring Ginny now wore on her left hand.

Supper over and cake now being washed off the toddler, she fussed at her parents' cleaning before having her nappy changed for bed. Molly was washing dishes at the kitchen sink, the window open in front of her for a light breeze to keep her cool during her task. It was then that she heard the conversation between her son and her future son-in-law come New Year's Eve. After a bit of banter about the quidditch finals, and whether Ginny's team, the Holyhead Harpies, would make it, the tone of the young men's conversation turned serious. Her position at the window behind them made it impossible not to hear, but she also slowed her washing to make sure she heard the discussion clearly.

"Ron, no one knows better than me how much of a help you can be in difficult times. You are like your mum, you know," Harry said.

Molly's head looked up at that comment and Ron's head quirked oddly to the side to look at him as if Harry were nuts.

"You are the glue that holds a lot of the family together. You…connect the dots. Look at me and Hermione—it's you that brought us all together. Now with Fred gone, you've… you know, taken care of George too and you are always visiting the Burrow or Shell Cottage."

A lump formed in Molly's throat. Harry was right. Ron was a family person first and he would always put that first. When he left on the run, Molly knew, the core of it was to protect the family. He had become best friends with the most wanted "criminal" in Voldemort's regime. He had brought added suspicion and danger to the family. His leaving would help to protect them. He had gone to Australia to help Hermione get her family back and when he returned he had begun working with a devastated George. Having Ron there relaxed Molly's concerns for the desolated remaining twin. For the past two years, he had been connecting with Hermione's family too, dropping by for supper, cards, and he had even begun to take an interest in the carpentry that Del Granger did as a hobby. She imagined it had just been a way for Ron to get to know Hermione's father initially, but he really seemed to be taking an interest in it. She was pleased. Young men don't stay young forever, and quidditch is a young person's sport by its very nature. He would need a hobby in his future, she thought. Fondly, her thoughts turned to Arthur and his garage full of Muggle gadgets.

She tuned her attention back into the conversation outside.

"But, George is going to be okay now. Look at him. You can see it. The last three months, he's started to come around so much more. I know the shop was not your dream. I remember the first time you saw Mad Eye Moody. It was the first time I saw you truly take an interest in something, and don't deny it. If you still want to be an Auror, we've got an opening. And, well, I don't think I've had a case yet where I haven't wished you were right there with me on a raid. You can read people. It's intuitive and not everyone has that." Harry paused a moment before continuing. "Don't you think it's time to do something for you now? I know how important she is to you."

Molly's eyes looked up to see Harry's head motion in Hermione's direction. Ron's head turned to follow and she noticed his face soften.

"And I also know you can beat yourself up with doubts that shouldn't be there. I know you've been studying the training books on the side. Hermione told me," he offered at the questioning glance he received from Ron. "If the shop is holding you back from the life you want, maybe it's time to change. Maybe, it's time to go after what you want." The double meaning in his words could not be mistaken.

Ron took a moment to reflect. "An opening?" he said with interest.

"Comes with an office, no window though."

Ron nodded his head in silent contemplation, his chin jutting out. "What's the salary?" Harry gave him all the information he needed. To start, he would be making double what his salary was with George with the exception of a percentage of profits for items that Ron had come up with himself that George insisted on paying Ron. "It would only be fair to give George notice so he can get more help in. We start inventory next week, and that's a big job."

Harry nodded in agreement. He did not want to anger his future brother-in-law either. "That's reasonable."

"I think it's time for a change," Ron said smiling.

Harry smiled, placed his fork on his plate and put out his hand. Ron shook it immediately to seal the deal. "Welcome to the Auror Department, Mr. Weasley."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. When do I start? And I guess I'll need to look over some of that department red tape, …er, procedures." Ron mused as he rolled his eyes.

The spring conversation churned through Molly's mind as Ron, patiently waited for his answer regarding the Grangers spending Christmas at the Burrow. She looked up at her son, the Auror. His self-confidence had increased too as he began to do as he wanted in life. He was happy and fulfilled in a job that he had always wanted to do, much more assertive too. She was very proud of him. She had always been so, though suddenly she wondered if he had felt it through his growing years.

"Well, Ron, if you think the Grangers wouldn't mind coming for Christmas, then, by all means, I think you should invite them for Christmas Eve supper and caroling and if you think they would agree, to stay the night to spend the day with us, all together." She smiled up at him and was surprised to suddenly get a big bear hug in return.

"Thanks Mum! I'll go invite them right now," he said looking at his watch. "Oh, and don't tell Hermione yet. I'll surprise her with it!" he said happily as he Disapparated.

Molly Weasley shook her head. _Okay_, she thought. _Where will I put them_?


	6. Parents

17

Chapter 6: Parents

A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. Back to school exhaustion set in. But while I didn't write, I had a new idea for extending the next chapter and had to set it up. So perhaps a little time away served the story in the end. Hope I'll find out by your reactions later.

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The house was full to the brim. Noise, noise everywhere, and that's just how Molly Wealsey liked it. Victoire was walking on very sturdy legs now after a slow start, and Bill's daughter had a knack for knowing where everything was that should not be touched. The added height from being on two feet delighted the child, but kept everyone else on their toes. Molly didn't have that much that was special to her, so it wasn't a great hardship to baby-proof the house, but the year and a half old toddler had already emptied a planter of its dirt, twice.

"Oops!" Bill heard Fleur in the sitting room. He and Charlie had been leaning against the kitchen counter, talking. He immediately looked to the sink for something. At Charlie's curious look, Bill explained. "That's code for get a sponge." Charlie nodded his understanding and then heard Fleur call from the next room for something to clean up a spill with. Her wand must be in the diaper bag he thought.

Bill entered with the requested wash cloth, noting Victoire's pacifier on the floor in the dirt.

"Bill, sterilize zat, will you?"

Molly smiled to herself as she left the sitting room and entered the kitchen. She gave Arthur a look. He understood immediately and smirked his amusement. Charlie and Ginny had noticed the funny looks on their faces as they watched the silent communication between their parents. "And that is what parents do with their first child's pacifier," Arthur explained at their odd expressions. "By the last, you just blow on it."

Ginny stared at her father in disbelief, and then mortification. "Ew! I'm the last!"

"I'm kidding, honey. Uh, we rinsed yours, of course."

Ginny suddenly got the shivers and shook her head in exasperation and got another drink. She hadn't seen Harry in two weeks, and when he arrived, he would be bringing two and a half year old Teddy Lupin, his godson, to Christmas Eve dinner. He would be happy to play with Victoire. The child had a very warm heart and in the past would try to take care of little Victoire by getting her his old toys that were still at the Burrow, and even picking her up when she went astray. That usually led to a frenzy of adults rushing to make sure he didn't drop her and to get him to set her down. Ginny looked at her watch, five-thirty. He should be here anytime now.

A light but firm knock at the kitchen door turned everyone's heads. Not waiting for anyone to open it, Hermione walked in smiling from ear to ear. "Anyone home?" she quipped, sticking her head in before entering fully. "Happy Christmas, everyone!"

"Ah! Here we go. Now the party's starting!" said Arthur as he went immediately to help Hermione with her coat. "Happy Christmas, my dear." Ginny and Charlie looked at each other with the same questioning glance. _What are we, chopped liver?_

"Thank you, Arthur. Same to you." Hermione leaned up to kiss him on both cheeks. "You remember Mum and Dad?"

"Of course, my dear. Monica, Del, welcome to our home," he said extending his hand. "Let me take your coats." Greetings continued with each member of the family present. Monica offered Molly the dishes she brought to add to the meal.

"Here, Molly, these are for you," Hermione said extending to her a beautifully wrapped floral table centerpiece which delighted the matriarch.

"How can we help with dinner?" Monica offered. The women dissolved into conversations of cooking and holiday family traditions. Ginny was ready to give knowing looks to Hermione to steer Monica out of Molly's way at times. However, as Monica had insisted on bringing some traditional Muggle dishes to help with the meal, Molly had softened to her presence in her kitchen immensely. Arthur was delighted to sample anything cooked by Muggles and asked for recipes. When Monica set out to write them down, Arthur quickly got out a quick quotes quill for the dictation to which Monica nearly fell off her chair with laughter at the sight.

Del had brought six bottles of Irish Cream that he made, one particularly large bottle for Arthur. Ron's father was delighted and planned on sharing his bottle during caroling later that evening. Arthur reciprocated with a bottle of firewhiskey. Both men were delighted with the exchange.

Hermione surveyed the rooms in front of her, the kitchen to one side and the sitting room in an L shape on the other. Everything was decorated as it always was and she loved the light pine scent Molly added to the room. The only thing missing to for her was Ron. Her eyes glanced for what seemed like the umpteenth time to the clock. Six o'clock and Ron had not turned up yet. She wondered what kept him. His course was done at noon. He was going by the apartment to fetch gifts to bring, and he said he had a few on order in Diagon Alley that he had to pick up before arriving at the Burrow. She let out a disappointed sigh and refilled her glass from the punch bowl, shaking her head in amusement. Wait until Ron sees this. It will kill him, she thought. A moment later she heard the door open in a familiar way and knew immediately that her boyfriend was about to enter, stomping an abnormal amount of snow off his boots. She set down her drink and practically flew towards him.

Ron scanned the room upon entering and his eyes lit up when he saw her rushing towards him, a grin spread wide across his face. He still had his travelling cloak on, and considering he had just Apparated here, he had quite a few flurries on his shoulders. Hermione decided not to dwell on it. It didn't matter, he was finally here. His arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her off her feet as they reunited. Not even realizing it, he slowly spun her around, her feet flying outwards, both smiling into each other's necks.

"Merlin! I missed you! Happy Christmas, Ron!" she squealed near his ear.

He held her tight a little longer before setting her down, a blush creeping up his neck. "It will be now. You are a sight for sore eyes! Damn, I missed you too." He set her on her feet again and leaned down to kiss her lightly, more than a peck, but much more would have been awkward considering the parental audience. His hand came up to caress her cheek. Hermione glowed in his warmth a moment and then gave him room to remove his cloak.

"How did it go?" she asked.

"Really, really well," he said proudly.

"I knew it!"

"Promise, I'll tell you as much as I can about it a later, when we're alone." She smiled happily at that response, glad he could share aspects of his work with her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Del and Monica approaching, and then welcoming hugs and handshakes were exchanged with parents from both sides. "Got here all right, did you? Happy Christmas."

"Yes, welcome back, Ron!" Del said, extending his hand. Then in a whisper, he added. "Did you get it here?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, hid it in the garage just now. Thanks for your help," he whispered. Then in a regular voice, he continued. "Is the office closed completely for the holidays? Do you get a real break?"

"Yes. Closed at noon today. After Boxing Day, Monica and I are off to Klosters for skiing. But Hermione is going to come and get us for the wedding. I must say, this Apparition business is _really_ convenient. No wonder you don't need cars."

Arthur perked up at the mention of cars, and decided he could not let the evening go by without a car conversation. He missed his Ford Anglia.

"I knew she'd find a way to get a long distance permit to Apparate into Switzerland. Via…?" Ron asked, knowing distance was limited.

"Belgium."

"Ah, good. Never let it be said your daughter is anything but resourceful," he said grabbing her hand and squeezing it proudly. "You're all set then for your annual trip."

"Yes," interjected Monica. "But I think we were looking forward to this evening as much as the skiing. This is amazing, Ron," she gestured to her surroundings, glancing at the Christmas tree with the mobile elf ornaments making gifts in various places of the tree and then bringing them to the central ornament of Santa's sleigh to deposit them in its huge bag before disappearing and regenerating the scene all over again. "How on earth have you been able to tear yourself away from here for Christmas with us these past years?"

"Well, your house has its own attractions." Hermione perked up at this as he pulled her a little closer to him. "Yeah, those peanut butter balls alone are worth it!" he grinned good naturedly, bringing his arm up around Hermione's shoulder with a little pat. He kissed the top of her head as he laughed at her mock offended expression.

Ron looked around the room with a serious expression. "Is George here?"

"No, not yet. He and Angie were going to five o'clock service with her parents before they left to visit her grandparents. George might bring her for caroling. He hasn't told your mum about her yet," she said quietly.

"Oh, is this a secret?" Monica asked, intrigued.

"Well, sorta. Anyone George takes even a fleeting interest in, Mum has him married off. So he stopped bringing girlfriends home last year," Ron informed.

Hermione had noticed a different air about him when he asked about George. "Is there something more, more than just festive curiosity about who's here?"

Ron looked at her parents a moment and then releasing Hermione, quickly glanced back at his mother who was giving each pot on the stove a stir before taking the cover off the turkey to brown it for the final cooking stage. "We caught Yaxley today."

Hermione's eyes rounded into saucer shapes in astonishment. Her hand grabbed his arm. "Ron! Seriously! Oh, that is such good news. Oh! Angie!" her hand flew up to cover her mouth as her mind put the all the connections together.

"Exactly. If anyone has a right to know and have some peace of mind, it's her and her family."

"And yours," Hermione supplied, looking back at Molly.

"We haven't heard that on the radio you gave us. We listen to the morning wizard news at seven," Del joined in.

"No, it's not public news yet, not until he's processed, which," he looked at his watch, "should be done by now. Harry insisted on watching every step, make sure nothing went wrong in any way with it. That bastard's not going to get off on a technicality," he said through gritted teeth. A look of fierce determination crossed his features, making Hermione feel even more attracted to this strength.

"Who, exactly, is he? A dark wizard obviously, but was he…" Monica asked.

"A Death Eater," Ron finished. "He got away during the battle, and has been hiding out for over two years now. He was the head of Magical Law Enforcement under Voldemort. He was an obsessive man," he added his eyes darting back at his mum for a moment. "But, we got him today. That will be a relief to a lot of people."

"Oh, your faces look much too serious. Come to the sitting room and relax a little, won't you? Ron, there's a punch bowl there, full of butterbeer. Help yourself darling," she said indicating the bowl that sat on a side table between kitchen and sitting room.

Ron could barely mask the look of astonishment he had at a punch bowl full of butterbeer. It just went against the whole feel of drinking when it came out of a dainty little glass cup instead of drinking straight from the bottle. He shook his head, horrified.

Hermione laughed. "I know, sweetie. It's a painful sight. I think she's just trying to make it classy for my parents' sake. Just smile and be gracious. She's worked very hard." Ron recovered and nodded slowly. Then he went to a cupboard and retrieved a beer mug and scooped some butterbeer into it with the ladle.

"Ronald! You're supposed to use the little cups that are hanging on the edge!" Molly scolded, afraid he would offend their Muggle guests.

Arthur, quiet until now, couldn't help but laugh. "Didn't I tell you young men would not be thrilled with those little things, my dear? I did warn you."

"He's all class, Molly," Hermione said amused.

"Yes. All of it low!" she countered. All laughed and continued into the sitting room.

Hermione grabbed Ron's arm to tarry him a bit. "What do you mean, you caught Yaxley today? You? Or the Auror Department? I thought you were on course."

"We were. We just finished the Muggle Illusions Infiltration test. I think I did really well, by the way." She smiled proudly at him. "I and everyone else were on our way back to our rooms to pack and go home when an emergency howler arrived that they had cornered Yaxley on an estate. Anti-apparition jinxes were set up around him, but they weren't going in without back up. Everyone, and I mean everyone, Apparated on the spot to the country estate. But there were tunnels between the buildings, so it was good that we had at least twenty-five Aurors there. He's absolutely crazy, angry, and dangerous. No one went in alone, Hermione. We were very careful and we got him," he finished with the pride of accomplishment in his face. He and Harry had actually hit him simultaneously with the final stun that brought him down.

Hermione's face showed nothing but pride mixed with concern and relief that he was okay. They could all sleep a little better tonight, knowing one more of Voldemort's inner circle of followers was off the streets and out of the sky.

Once seated on the chesterfield, Monica leaned into Hermione. "What does Molly have to do with him?" she whispered. She had noticed the glances in their host's direction.

"Oh. Uh, Molly dated Yaxley while at Hogwarts. It was before Arthur, obviously. But he was obsessive even then. He stalked her after she broke it off. He followed her to class and a few other things. I think there's more to it, but neither wants to discuss it much as you can imagine. Arthur really helped back then. Obviously, quite a lot," she said glancing affectionately at Ron's father. "He's a good man." Like his son, she thought.

By six-thirty, Percy was there and Harry had arrived and was quickly nursing a butterbeer and everyone was soon seated at the table. Molly was glad Harry had little Teddy with him; that made fourteen at the table and not the unlucky thirteen which would have seen her stand to eat or invite another person. Arthur stood and raised his glass of wine for a combined prayer and toast. "And to our loved ones," he said as he took his glass from the table. "With us today and celebrating away—past, present, and future—may we celebrate the special feeling of family and togetherness in our hearts all the year long, and be sincerely grateful to have you all to share the journey of life with." Everyone smiled fondly then raised their glasses to respond, "To family."

Everyone took a sip of the wine together, except Fleur. She chose her water goblet to toast with. As everyone began to notice and the whispers had begun, she and Bill made the announcement that she was expecting again. At that point the wine goblets were magically refilled and congratulations and hugs were exchanged. Bill looked proud. Victoire fussed and raised her arms toward her father, who immediately took her into his lap and ate with her there, after Fleur dished his plate for him. Once in his arms she played with his earring and claimed his attention back on her as it had strayed with everyone extending their congratulations.

As the evening proceeded Hermione noticed Ron talking to her father; pointing things out that he thought might be of interest to Del. Arthur joined in and suddenly they were off to Arthur's garage. Ron looked somewhat dismayed, but Hermione joined him and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"Guess who?" she whispered in his ear.

"Hmmm, Madam Rosmerta," he said with a devilish grin. Hermione swatted him good naturedly. "Just kidding!" he said as he half turned and put his arm around her to enfold her in a hug and continued talking.

"You've been very attentive to my parents. Thank you."

"Well, I just don't want them to be overwhelmed by the crowd or any situation that may seem too strange for them."

"They are tougher than you think, you know. I've been giving them demonstrations of magic quite a while now. I think they're used to it. You don't have to worry. It's not like when I was at school and I couldn't even show them what I had learned due to the under aged restrictions."

"All the same. They are on my turf now. I want them to feel comfortable. Maybe I should show your dad the broom shed when he gets back in. Still think he'd go for a ride?"

"Better you than me on that one. You, Harry and Ginny have got the affinity for flying. Never did quite manage to get that."

"Hmm. Can't get everything from a book, I guess," he teased.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'm perfectly aware of that, Ronald." Before she could continue, he bent his head down to her and kissed her quickly, but the hand that came up to caress her face showed her that he wanted it to mean more than a method to stop an exchange between them. The crowd in the room meant a long kiss was inappropriate. Her retort vanished as she looked up at eyes and a soft smile that spoke tender feelings for her. That look could melt her heart instantly. "I can't get that feeling from a book either," she said softly to him so no one else could hear. She wrapped her arms around him a little more and squeezed him. "I've really missed you," she said pressing her body into his just enough to see a fire ignite in those blue eyes.

His hand came up to cup her cheek lightly, enjoying their private moment together. "I don't suppose you have a list of apartments available for rent in your purse?"

"Did you have a doubt?"

"No," he smiled at her, about to continue when his sister's voice broke into their conversation.

"Hey, you two!" Ginny chided mischievously as she interrupted Ron for a change.

Ron and Hermione looked back to see Ginny and Harry walking over to them. Teddy was asleep in Harry's arms.

"Andromeda said he would pass out by eight. Look, you could set your watch by him," said Harry of the child in full slumber in his arms. "I have to get some travelling clothes on him and take him back to his grandmother's."

"We'll do that!" Ginny offered hers and Hermione's services, knowing Harry wanted a quick chat with Ron. Hermione looked surprised but joined in getting the child ready to go.

"Everything go all right with our new guest," Ron asked.

"Yep. He's a loud one when he wants to be. Had to use an ear plugging charm during questioning," Harry replied. "You'll take of things while Ginny and I are gone?"

"Sure thing."

"Good." Harry looked at Monica and Del. "So, her parents are _here_," Harry said matter-of-factly, changing the subject.

"Yeah. It seemed to be the best solution to stop Mom from going on about my not being here for another Christmas again."

"Hmmm. Yeah, I can see that," said Harry.

"You've been taking up my spot now for a while. That's kept her happy," Ron replied indicating Harry's presence for Christmas Day for the past two years.

"Well, I was wondering, in case there's anything particularly special about this Christmas and you were wondering about any Muggle traditions that you might want to follow to avoid any problems in the future…" Harry broke off, hoping enough was said that if the proposal he thought he saw coming was indeed in the offing, that he could tell Ron a thing or two before hand.

Ron eyed Harry suspiciously but said nothing.

"Merlin, Ron! Are you going to ask Hermione to marry you, or not?"

Ron looked annoyed. "Shouldn't that be something I talk to her about before you, _if_ I were going to do that?" This is not good. If his mother was wondering if this was a special Christmas and now Harry coming right out and asking him…then how the hell was he going to make it a surprise for Hermione?

Harry raised his hands in a disarming gesture. "All I'm saying is, if you plan to, Muggle tradition is for the man to ask the girl's father for his permission to marry his daughter."

"What? Seriously?" said Ron alarmed.

Harry smirked, "Yes, seriously. Just thought I'd give you a head's up."

"Thanks…err, that's good to know. I'll keep it in mind. But…Hermione would hate that. It's like saying she's a possession or something to be given away, controlled even. She'd say that's barbaric!"

"Now-a-days, it's seen more as a sign of respect for her family. That you understand she is part of that family and always will be despite marrying, and that the man is willing to ask to join her family as well."

"Oh. Well…" He stopped. He'd given too much away.

Harry laughed, "Happy Christmas, mate!" He smacked Ron hard on the back of his shoulder turned to take Teddy from the approaching women.

Before doing so, however, Ron broke in. "Uh, Harry, mind if we take that sleigh out for ride tonight. Mum's got us all in separate rooms. We'll have no chance to talk and catch up a bit. Promise we won't hurt it. It'll be in perfect condition for the wedding," he said.

Arthur had rented a sleigh for Ginny's arrival at the outdoor ceremony to be held on New Year's Eve. The company had conveniently dropped it off early since they would be closed between the holidays themselves. Ron had noticed it when he went to the garage to hide Hermione's gifts.

"It's already here?" Harry asked. Ron nodded. "Sure thing. Separate rooms? Seriously?" Ron nodded his displeasure too. Neither had seen their girlfriends in two weeks. Sleeping apart was the last thing they wanted, especially for Christmas Eve. Harry nodded uncomfortably and decided it might take him and Ginny a little longer to return from Andromeda's. The engaged couple then left through the floo network to return Teddy to his grandmother's.

"What was he on about?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, nothing much. By the way, I was about to ask you something earlier, before they came over. Can you meet me in the garage at midnight for your Christmas present? I thought we could use a little private time away from everyone. A little bit of the day, just for us?" his eyebrows rose in hope.

Hermione smiled up at him. "I'd meet you anywhere, love—especially for a little peace and quiet together." She glanced around the teeming room. Even after all these years of visiting the Weasley's, she could still find it crowded and would often escape outside or to Ginny's room to read a little.

Arthur and Del were entering the house from the tour of the garage where obviously a lot of conversation had been about the Muggle gadgets Arthur collected. "So, let me get this straight: You _park_ on driveways, but _drive_ on parkways? What is the reasoning for that, Del?"

Hermione smiled her amusement at their conversation and surveyed the rooms. Fleur was giving Victoire a bottle and Bill, Charlie and Ron were snacking down on the assorted nuts and butterbeer as they started a card game of blackjack until more would join for euchre. Percy was trying to tune in the radio to Celestina Warbeck for Molly before joining his brothers. They decided to delay caroling until Harry and Ginny returned. She looked at her watch, eight-thirty. They were late. Hermione noticed that Fleur began rummaging awkwardly, one handed, through her pockets. A look of success crossed her face as she retrieved a set of ear plugs and inserted them.

The bell over the kitchen door chimed and in walked George. Everyone's mouths dropped since he was not alone. Ron looked up. Hmm, cat's out of the bag now, he thought. Following close behind George was Angelina Johnson.

"Hi Angie," Ron said to relieve the stunned quiet in the room. "Merry Christmas. Did you two get to go to church with your family after all?" Ron moved forward to take her coat.

"Hi. Yes, we did. It just finished and we came after visiting with my grandparents." She looked around at all the surprised faces. "Oh, George didn't tell you he invited me for caroling?" She gave him an awkward, embarrassed look and quietly poked him in the back. George's body bucked forward at the jab, his eyes widened brightly in amusement.

"Uh, no, he didn't, but that is quite all right, dear. Welcome, the more the merrier. Happy Christmas, George," said Molly as she embraced her son. Then she whispered in his remaining ear, "Is she staying the night?"

"Well, I haven't asked her, but now that you mention it."

Molly's eyes widened in shock. _Where will I put her?_

"Angie. Can I speak to you a minute?" Ron asked. "You too, George."

Both frowned their confusion. Ron's face was serious, work mode serious. They followed him to Ginny's old room, he shut the door behind them. They looked at him in alarm.

He turned to them. "Thought I'd give you a Christmas present."

George's chin descended to his chest as his eyes rose in curiosity. This was out of the ordinary indeed. They didn't exchange presents on a mass scale anymore. They had a Christmas present exchange lottery among the siblings. The fact that he was offering this to Angie with this was strange beyond words.

"Uh…I didn't get you anything," she said uncomfortably.

"Not that kind of present. Information. Your family is affected by this." He paused. "We caught him Angie. We caught Yaxley today. He should be getting his prison robes and cell in Azkaban right now to await trial. I thought you should know. I haven't told Dad, yet. I'll let him tell Mum when he thinks it's right."

Angie knew immediately who Ron was talking about before he elaborated. She was silent, processing the information. She felt George's protective arm come round her shoulders as she stared first at Ron, then at a quidditch figurine sitting on the dresser. It was the first object she locked on to. She didn't know why, she just stared at it as she figured out how she felt.

"Thanks, Ron," she managed before sitting down slowly on one of the two beds. "Was anyone hurt?

"Everyone will be fine—minor cuts. He plays with your mind that one. Quite the tosser. You can tell your parents. The Auror Department already tried to get hold of them this evening, but they weren't home."

"We were at church." She thought a moment longer and looked back at him. "You helped get him?"

"Yes. Harry too. Dozens of Aurors were there today."

"Wow." She shook her head and looked back at him. "Thank you, thank you." She got up and hugged him as tears began. Ron returned the embrace in a caring manner. At least he was giving good news here, instead of informing families of a terrible happening. He smiled at her and patted her on her back and left her with George.

Exiting Ginny's room, he caught Hermione's understanding eye and smiled at her. Just then Percy's girlfriend, Audrey, arrived. Taking advantage of the new mayhem, Ron went over and found Del Granger inspecting Molly's clock. "Interesting isn't it? Never seen another one like it. Mum made it. She's quite handy with magic really, though mostly we just see what she does around the house."

"Fascinating," Del said with wonder. "It doesn't tell time at all?"

"No, just where we are," Ron answered.

"Mortal Peril? Seriously?" he asked concerned. Ron nodded. "My God! It must have been set there all that time you were on the run?" Again Ron nodded. "She must not have slept well for a year."

Ron sighed. "I hadn't thought about it, to be honest. No, I imagine not. I don't think anyone slept well while Voldemort was back in power. We slept in shifts in the tent, if you recall."

"Uh-huh," the dentist answered sadly.

"Uh, well if the clock interests you, you might want to have a butcher's at the brooms, out back in the shed. We've got quite a few different models for playing quidditch."

"Really? Fascinating! That would be grand."

Ron shook his head slightly in amusement. It was like showing his father a new Muggle gadget. As they headed out the kitchen door to the shed, Ron spied Hermione going through photo albums with Monica and Molly. She looked up at their exiting in time to see Ron watching her a moment and then he quickly winked at her. She smiled and winked back.

Ron showed Del the various brooms used over the years, the one Hermione would borrow whenever they played quidditch over the orchard in the summers. Del was genuinely interested in all of it and looked like a kid in a candy shop.

"Would you like to go for a ride?" Ron offered.

"Do you need a wand to make it fly?" he asked.

"No, actually. The broom itself has been enchanted. But, only a witch or wizard can make it go. But don't worry, I'll drive slowly, no where near the speed of the quidditch match we took you to."

Ron mounted the broom and held out a crooked arm to Del to assist him. "Make sure you get yourself in a comfortable position, uh, if you know what I mean. Otherwise, you won't enjoy the flight at all. Actually, you might want to fly side-saddle, your first time," he suggested. Del climbed aboard and held on to Ron's sides, mildly uncomfortable.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," responded Del.

Ron smiled, remembering Hermione's response in the exact same words when they found the broom in the forest after exiting the Chamber of Secrets during the Battle for Hogwarts.

Ron took his girlfriend's father up slowly until he was assured that he was all right. They flew around the grounds of the Burrow and then Ron flew over Ottery-St. Cathpole, the little town nearby. He remained in the shadows of clouds as much as possible so that no Muggles would see them. Once he was assured the man was okay, he cast a Disillusionment Charm and flew directly over the village, getting a great view of the large Christmas tree at the center of the square. Del Granger was amazed at the freedom of flying and thoroughly enjoyed the ride despite the cold temperature.

When they landed Del got down, glad to have his feet on terra firma, yet already missing the exhilaration of the flight. "Wow! That was great! Better than my motorbike when I was a young man like yourself!"

"You had a motorbike?" Ron said as he put the broom back in the shed and then closed the door.

"Yeah. One of the things I had to give up when Monica and I married. They terrified her. Her brother was killed on one in an accident and she would just turn so pale whenever I got on mine. She never got over her fear of them. We could never go for a ride together which would have been a lot of fun. She couldn't go into my garage, without getting upset. So, well, she was more important to me than the bike." He shrugged his shoulders, "I do miss it though."

Ron nodded his head in understanding and enjoying a piece of family history that had never been relayed before.

"I understand that. When your priorities are set, it's easier to give up what isn't truly important. Things become pretty clear. Losing my brother…I felt I had to rearrange some for a while, as long as Hermione was on board with it. Since she was going back to school, helping George maintain the business seemed the right thing to do."

Del nodded, and listened intently. Ron rarely spoke so seriously to him. He had a feeling he knew what was coming.

"Well, things are better now with him. He's okay. I think it's time to move on and get on with my life. A major part of that is Hermione, has always been, really." He took a deep breath before he continued. "I left the store; I am working for the Ministry now. This is my career, not a job like the other was. I have saved as much as I could with the goal of offering your daughter a good and comfortable life together. But, more importantly, I love her very much and I want to spend my life with her." Suddenly, he felt like vomiting slugs again would be easier than what he was about to ask, but he ploughed through. "I would like your permission to ask her to marry me."

Del eyed the young man in front of him. He was silently amused. For a brief moment he toyed with having a little fun at Ron's expense, and then remembered his own nervousness when he asked for Monica's hand and then relented. As if he would say no to the man who had been part of saving his daughter's life and had flown across the world with her to bring him and Monica back. He calmly stared at Ron, appraising him anew.

"I believe you do love her, Ron. I feel very confident in giving you my blessing and am honored that you asked for it." Del put out his hand and Ron shook it immediately, amazed at how good he felt at having her father's support. "I do have two requests though if you are going to marry my daughter."

Ron's body language betrayed concern.

"Your job, an Auror is it?" Ron nodded. "You must take the utmost care in your work so you can come home to her, safe and sound. I know about the one who taught you, Mad Eye something or other. He was in bad shape—a magical eye Hermione told me."

"Moody," Ron supplied. "Yes sir, he was. But, I don't think he ever had anyone to come home to or to take care for," said Ron. Del nodded. "I will. The other?" Ron inquired.

"Well, wherever you settle, could you please install a telephone, or have a cell phone?"

Ron smiled and laughed slightly. "I think I can manage that. I'm better at using them now than when I was a kid. Thank you. This means a lot."

"Well, you mean a lot to Hermione. I think you always have. It's about time, and, I think it is the right time. Any idea when you plan to ask her?"

"Soon, if a moment presents itself during the holiday. We'll have to find a bit of peace and quiet which is not that easy with so many people about."

Del nodded. "It is loud, all right. Oh, I don't mean to be rude, but do magical people exchange rings?"

Ron smiled, "Yes, we're not that different in many ways."

"Oh, okay. Muggle women expect a ring with a proposal you know. Well, I guess not all women, but a lot do."

"Taken care of," he patted his pocket, finding the little box snug in his jacket. It was one of the things he had to retrieve before arriving at the Burrow.

"Oh, good. Hermione will have researched your customs I imagine. She likes to be prepared, you know. Planning, always planning. She would want to be prepared." Del was beginning to get nervous. How much did this young man know about Muggle traditions?

"If I goof up, she's used to it. Believe me!"

Wendell Granger smiled at the young man who would become his future son-in-law. He was positive Hermione would say yes.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Out of curiosity, were you nervous asking me?" the older man queried.

"Yeah. Well..."

Del took pity on the young man. "Tell me something, Ron. You love my daughter?"

"With all my heart," he said sincerely. Suddenly, he thought this interview was not over.

"You like her, too?"

"Uh, yeah, of course. She's been my best friend, practically since first year." After a shaky start, he thought.

"That's very important. Over the years, you'll go through moments where it is crucial that you like each other's company—not just love. There's a difference, you know. You respect her?"

"Yes. How could anyone not?" As soon as he said that, he knew Del was skeptical at that response. Considering the torture she had endured by pure-bloods, this was not a simple question to answer in the magical world where she still faced much prejudiced opposition to her status and her fight for the rights of house-elves.

Del continued. "You are loyal? Respect the value of a family? Hard work? Finish what you begin? Value her opinion?" Ron nodded affirmatively to his questions. "Are not intimidated by her intellect?"

Ron shook his head. "No, I admire it, actually. I'm proud of her and her accomplishments."

"Then what more could I ask for my daughter to have in a husband?"

Ron became choked up and nodded his understanding. He was basically hearing his relationship with Hermione articulated.

"Ron, I saw all these qualities in you in Australia. You've gone through your trials together, much earlier than most people do, and don't think there won't be trials ahead. But you stuck by her, saved her life, flew around the world for her, and her family. You have grown into a fine young man and I would be proud to have you join our family. You'll, uh, be my first son, if you don't mind my calling you that, here and there."

Ron was silent a moment as he contemplated everything Del said to him. He had no idea that he had made such an impression upon the older man. Considering he had actually Crucioed him once, there was a part of Ron that couldn't believe what he was hearing. He hadn't actually forgiven himself for showing her father what Hermione had gone through to protect them. Ron's head was nodding almost imperceptibly, as his lips pursed together in an effort not to let the emotions he was now feeling overwhelm him. _Son_. The title honored Ron, and the little boy inside him puffed up at being number one. Ron, the man, puffed up at having earned such respect, admiration, and dare he think it already, a paternal love, from Hermione's father. "That, would be an honor, sir."

They walked quietly back to the house and back into the crowd, the noise. Songs had begun booming from the magical piano, and once they walked in, caroling began. Harry and Ginny had returned during their absence. Ron looked at his sister. Her lips were slightly swollen, as were Harry's. _I'm not going there_, he thought.

Hermione came to stand beside Ron and he moved her in front of him and held her around the waist from behind and joined in the singing together. She looked at her watch—only nine o'clock. She looked back at Ron and could see he had looked at her watch too. Their eyes met, understanding both were thinking of their planned meeting at midnight. He cuddled her a little tighter and she returned the embrace against his forearms at her stomach.

The next hymn was We Three Kings. As the magical piano began the tune, Molly and Arthur stood and went to the special box of ornaments, retrieved theirs and placed them on the tree, making a wish as they did so. Next were Bill and Fleur and little Victoire, and so on down the line. Ron, uncomfortably, left Hermione a moment to put his own star up, alone, and made his wish, before returning to her. Monica and Del watched, enraptured. When the time came for Ginny's turn, Molly gave her a look that stopped her from getting up and following suit.

Molly, with a great look of pride, reached behind the couch and retrieved a beautifully wrapped box in blue. Atop the box was a small sentinel of a weasel at the center of an intricate golden bow. She and Arthur walked over to Harry who looked surprised and curious. The small weasel seemed to target him, standing on its hind legs, snout pointed in his direction. Once Harry's hands connected with the box, it began to unwrap the bow, letting the ends fall down the sides. It then bowed to him and became a still ornament again. The room full of loved ones all watched kindly and expectantly as they continued to sing. He looked at Ginny. She had tears in her eyes, her face turning redder by the second as she tried to hold them in check and then, uncharacteristically, gave up and let them flow. Harry placed the box in his lap and his hands shook as he lifted the lid which Arthur proudly took from him. With the whole family's eyes focused on him, he could feel how important this moment was.

Harry's face turned white, his eyes like saucers as he saw it. Inside the box, under blue tissue paper, was a golden star ornament with his name on it. He reached inside to delicately take hold of the family ornament. He was helpless against the tears that pressed forward from his own green orbs. His lips trembled and he pursed them tightly together gaining a little more control of his emotions.

Ginny stood up beside him and motioned for him to follow her. She went to the box of stars, found hers, and then escorted Harry to the tree. Holding hands, they made their wish together and each found a spot to put their stars. Applause all around drowned out the singing. They embraced each other, followed by hugs from Molly and Arthur and then the rest of the family followed suit. The wedding was a week away, but tonight Harry felt like the Weasley family just made the biggest welcoming, inclusive gesture he could imagine. He looked at Ron and Hermione. Both were beaming proudly, Hermione in tears as he knew she would be. He couldn't help but think, they were next as they hugged him.

Hermione had never seen this family ritual and was awed anew at the overflowing love they had for one another. She wanted to be part of this too. She gazed at Ron, the only man she had ever loved, had ever dreamed of sharing a life with. Slowly, she formulated a plan.


	7. To Inspire

Chapter 7: To Inspire

It felt like forever, but the household finally settled for the night. Harry was back on his old cot in Ron's room and Ginny's room accommodated Hermione and Angelina too that night. It seemed so silly to them, since none were living at home anymore and were all practically living with their partners, but they enjoyed a little girl chat for a while. Ginny planned on moving home for the week anyway to make their wedding night more special.

The girls chatter moved from topic to topic, all over the place with so much in common. It finally settled on a topic Ginny had wanted to speak with Angie about for a while. George's bringing her home for Christmas was an indication he was serious about her, so it was time to make sure all was above board.

"Oh, the Yule Ball," Hermione recalled grimly. "I didn't get to go with who I wanted. I had a good time with Viktor, though. I ended up having a great night until the end when Ron and I got into it in the Common Room."

"Yes, I remember. Actually, I think everyone remembers that. You two weren't exactly quiet. I think my big brother had it for you even then, just too stupid to figure it out."

"Oh, we chatted about that in Australia, you know. He did have a clue about something between us. I thought he was a git for not stepping up earlier, but his reasons were valid. As hard as it is for me to admit that, I could see his point."

"Which was?" chimed in Angelina. She was lying on a cote on her stomach, her chin resting in her cupped hands and her feet crossed at the ankles in the air behind her.

"Well, it started with awkwardness of changing the relationship. Best friends—it's hard to put that on the line. If it didn't work out well, we'd lose that in each other. He would piss Harry off and a couple other reasons which I didn't see from his perspective at the time. He, uh, had actually thought about it a good deal, which surprised me greatly. He wasn't ready for a serious relationship when he was fourteen. And it would have been with me. And I have to agree, he wasn't. In the end, I'm glad we waited until we were older; as hard as it was at times, it was worth having a more mature Ron.

Ginny smiled and turned to Angelina. "What about you, Angie?"

Angelina knew this was coming, and chose her words carefully. "I had a great time at the Yule Ball, although I was hoping George would be the one to ask me. But Fred did. So I said yes. It was a bit of a sticky point to get over for George. Sort of had to remind him that it was never serious between us and I was not THAT important to Fred who was also flirting with another girl at the time." She hoped this would placate George's sister. Angie could read the satisfied look on Ginny's face that Angie was not using George as a replacement for Fred. She acknowledged the progress that George had made in the last year and especially the last six months since Angie had become his regular girlfriend. "Yes, we all seem to have that in common. None of us went to the Yule Ball with the person we wanted to," Ginny said amused. Deciding to take the heat off Angie, she continued. "I went with Neville, remember?"

"Um-hmm." Hermione became pensive a moment.

"What up, Hermione?"

"Just thinking about the fight in the Common Room. Yes, we were young, but sometimes I just wish we would have gone for it."

"I didn't realize how bad he had it for you even then Hermione. I taunted him once that you had kissed Krum." Ginny admitted. Angie's eyes widened at that statement, suddenly intrigued.

"You what? When?"

"Oh, let me see. It waaaas around Christmas of our last year all together at Hogwarts."

"Christmas?"

"Yeah, he was pretty angry, pulled out his wand at me. Harry broke up our fight. Then he just…"

"Started treating me like dirt and began seeing Lavender Brown. Was it immediately?"

"Uh, come to think of it, yes," Ginny answered a little uncomfortably. Suddenly, she realized how much she had affected her brother.

"What a complete prat! He retaliated for my kissing Viktor two years prior by going out with Lavender? How could he get so upset for something that happened so long ago?"

Angie's head tilted down, giving her a look George normally gave people when they were full of it and didn't even realize it. He would comment that apparently they thought their shit didn't stink. She chose a different tactic with Hermione. "The way you are now, Hermione?" she said knowingly.

"What?"

"You. Right now. You're upset. It happened four _years_ ago, Hermione. Now maybe you understand Ron's behavior a bit more. It was pretty fresh, and wasn't he Ron's quidditch idle at the time? Seeing you with someone he admired so much must have gotten under his skin if he already liked you."

She opened her mouth to argue and then slowly shut it. She sat in wonder at his behavior towards her that she now comprehended. She had to admit, even to herself, that when she knew Ron was in earshot at the Yule Ball, she had laughed a little harder than necessary at Viktor's awkward attempts at humor. She had danced a little more vigorously if she knew he was in eyesight. She had held him closer during slow dances if he was watching. She had tried to make him jealous by playing games. She, Hermione Granger, the smart one, had stooped to manipulation to get Ron to notice her. So he had too, and in doing so she had hurt him. And he had railed into her at the end of the night, hurting her as much as she had hurt him by trying to get him to notice her as a girl, not just a mate. But, they were two years older by the time he was going out with Lavender and the games came with heavier consequences—potentially all could have been lost for them. She upped the stakes and had retaliated back with Cormac McLaggen, his rival for the keeper spot on their quidditch team. She spent the night curled up in her bed crying over what she had done. She was no better. _Gryffindor my arse! We were both such cowards._

Ginny and Angie continued the conversation, trying not to notice that Hermione had checked out briefly. She gritted her teeth, unconsciously sucking her lips against her teeth as she thought. They had wasted so much time. If she had just plucked up the courage and asked him back then the way she had to Slughorn's party, maybe, just maybe, that horrible year of tears and empty sore stomachs wouldn't have happened.

_How stupid can I be? I can only deal in absolutes. I can't do anything about the past, but I can about the future. It's time to stop wasting time._

She glanced at the diamond solitaire on Ginny's left hand. Her eyes roamed to the long white dress hanging in the open closet. She smiled. Harry and Ginny deserved their happiness. She did not begrudge them any bit of it even if Ginny was a year younger than her and tying the knot before her. Ginny had been crazy about Harry since she was eleven years old. She smiled inwardly as she contemplated next week's dusk outdoor ceremony that was planned to the last detail by the couple themselves. Her own bridesmaid dress in red velvet, with matching red velvet floor length cape hung beside Ginny's in the closet. She, Luna, and Fleur would arrive by sleigh first, and be met by the groomsmen, Ron, Neville, and George. Each would accompany the ladies down the aisle. Each woman's long white gloved hands would carry a lantern instead of flowers to light their way up to the raised dais. The whole area would be lit by matching lanterns raised on tall posts, somewhat similar to garden lights, but higher. Once they exited the sleigh, it would return for Ginny and her father to escort them to the ceremony in a grand entrance for the only Weasley daughter.

Though Ginny would have been happy with any type of ceremony, she wanted Harry to have the full treatment and special day she thought he deserved after a life of neglect. She was determined that Harry would feel lavished with care and love by the event. She had been appalled at the toothpick and the single tissue he received at Christmas from the Dursleys while growing up. They were worse than being forgotten. They were downright insulting and malicious.

"Well, this is a lot of fun girls, but I have a date to keep," said Hermione as she got up and grabbed a bag from under her bed and her wand.

"What?" they said in unison.

"I'm meeting Ron for a little _alone_ time," she said with a small blush.

"Where?" Ginny inquired.

"Never mind. And don't follow me or watch me leave. It'll feel creepy."

Ginny looked at Hermione. "Did you organize this, or did Ron?"

"Why?"

"Well, it's Ron!"

"There are other sides to Ron, you know. He's not just the over-protective brother who annoys you!"

"Well, I hope so, for your sake."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake Ginny, be serious. You aren't the same person with Ron or the rest of your brothers as you are with Harry, right? He's the same. He's very open with me, loves to chat."

Angelina just smiled. She had noticed how different Ron had become when she visited the shop in Diagon Alley. Whenever Hermione used to walk in the shop, he lit up. He wasn't afraid to show his feelings anymore. At first it was only when George wasn't in the room. Then as she and George began to be more serious, the brothers seemed to call a teasing truce. Neither sibling wanted to be embarrassed in front of their girl. Yet, here at the Burrow, she saw that he was much more guarded around his sister. The same could be said for George, she thought. She pondered the effect Ginny had on the men. They must have really teased each other a lot as they were growing up, she thought.

"Now, go to sleep," Hermione said as she closed the door and headed first for the bathroom to change and lightly freshen up her makeup. When she looked in her bag, she saw the contraceptive potion, grabbed it and then put it back, staring at it a moment. _Oh, who am I kidding_? _It's been two weeks since I've had his lips truly on mine and_…Suddenly, she was flushed just thinking about him. She grabbed the bottle and downed a swallow before putting it back in the magically extended bag with his gifts. She had been in her pajamas, now she changed back into her black skirt that smoothly accentuated her curves, and the black v-neck cross over front that tied at the side. She adjusted it so just the right amount of cleavage showed to raise an appreciative eyebrow. She stared at her pantyhose. Nope—forget those and chose black garters with a knowing smirk. Taking a last look over in the mirror, she nodded her satisfaction. She descended the stairs quietly for the closet to get her warm winter coat and high heeled black leather boots to go outside and meet him.

Crossing the yard toward the garage, her mind churned over the conversation with Ginny. If she only knew how much her brother actually talked about things with her, she wouldn't think he was so closed off. When they had started dating it was like a volcano of conversation erupted from him once he was sure of his audience. She thought back over their exchanges at Hogwarts. They could be fairly superficial often, and somewhat biting because both cared for the other but would not admit it and it was easier to keep each other at arm's length than deal with feelings they weren't ready for. He liked to talk mostly when they were lying in each others' arms, or sitting alone together at a café. My how times have changed she thought.

She looked ahead and noticed the reflection of the light from the garage window in the snow. It was not full strength, not that she was an aficionado on Arthur's garage lights, but something seemed different. She turned the corner to the side entrance where she could see Ron waiting for her, pacing back and forth, his hands in motion as if he were in conversation with someone. He seemed stressed, more so than earlier tonight when he spoke of Yaxley. Her heart compressed at his stress, and she determined to lighten him up a little. Gingerly, she opened the door and discovered he had lit the fire in the wood stove and heated garage to a comfortable temperature. Ron froze midstride and stared at her with a look of wonder on his face that reminded her of his expression when they first kissed.

Ron stood as if his feet were nailed to the floor as he took in the vision in front of him. He could truly look at her and not hold anything back. Everything he wanted to say to her was bubbling to escape his mouth, but he settled for, "Thought you'd never get here."

Hermione surveyed the garage as she put down the bag and slowly removed her coat. Her eyes landed on a Christmas tree of lights he had erected above the work bench, suspended from the rafters, with a power source she'd never seen before to illuminate the electric strings. He shrugged. "Hard to make a garage romantic," he said a little sheepishly.

"You, uh, managed quite well," she complimented, deeply touched.

Ron moved towards her and pulled her to him, "Happy Christmas, love," he said, lips seeking out hers in a passionate kiss.

This was a kiss like no other; it spoke love denied and reunion. It betrayed passion in the hand at her back that pressed her to him and the tongue that probed her mouth sensuously, yet the gentle cupping of her face also exposed the depth of cherishing he felt for her. Wow, had it been that long that she'd forgotten how he could put so many emotions into a simple kiss? No, there was nothing simple about this kiss. She returned to him what she felt he was giving; their history, their present, and she felt for some reason, there was future in it.

The kiss ended slowly, with both mildly out of breath as their eyes locked on one another. "Wow, Happy Christmas indeed," said Hermione coming up for air. "That alone was worth the wait!" Gazing into such loving eyes, that look was worth the wait too, she thought.

"Well, okay. If that's all you want. I won't give you your present tonight. We'll wait 'til morning when everyone's around."

"Ronald Weasley, you big tease! That's just cruel! Plus, I don't think our parents would appreciate one gift." Her hands, up around his neck, slowly moved down his shoulders and left his body to connect with her thighs as she took a slight step back from him.

"What?"

"This." Her hands slowly slid up her thighs to her hips, her black skirt following and so did his eyes.

"I—uh—actually didn't invite you out here for sex. I just wanted to be with you." His eyes darted towards the back of the garage where the sleigh was waiting just outside the back door. This was not going right.

_Damn, I'm goofing this up, already. My own damn fault. Shouldn't have kiss her like that. She probably felt me go hard. Christ, my dick has a mind of its own, sometimes! You'd think I was eighteen again. Merlin, she's so fucking gorgeous in the glow of the little lights. It wasn't what I had in mind, but...uh, wait, she is initiating, not me… does that make it better? Hell, yes! What the fuck!...What the hell are you wearing under there? Oh, shit, I'm a goner._

"Ron," she said huskily as she slowly advanced back on him, raising her booted leg to slowly wrap around his ass. "I missed you," she whispered lustfully into his ear. She could feel her lower lips begin to throb in need.

Suddenly, Ron was aware he hadn't exhaled in quite sometime. The held breath burst forth as he slowly took in another, one hand cupping her butt cheek of the leg at his hip, his other hand round her back as instinct took over. "How much?" he almost growled.

Her eyes darkened in lust, her lips parting seductively as she slid her hand down the front of her body to the wet area between her legs and coated them with her own juices. She brought them up to his nose and mouth, and frosted his lips with them. His eyes rolled back in his head as he inhaled her scent. "This much," she answered.

He licked his lips. Immediately he grabbed her by her ass and had both her legs around his middle, kissing her hard. Looking around, he quickly decided there nothing clean enough here to have sex on, so he backed her up into the wall. "I missed you, too." He said kissing her passionately, her hands pulling at his hair as her back hit the wall. She was pinned. It reminded her of the tree in the harbor in Sydney, but his time, her hands were free, and they weren't in public. They could do as they wished. Her thighs squeezed him as she instinctively pushed her body into his as much as he pressed against hers.

She reached down and worked at unfastening his pants and a moment later, he set her down so she could reach her goal. She wrapped her fingers around his hard shaft. "Yes, you did," she responded as she slowly let her tongue slide across her lips, watching his eyes watching her. She began to pump him, eliciting moans from deep in his throat, followed by gasps of ecstasy. He pulled at the tie of her blouse, revealing her breasts that he immediately released from her black bra, and kneading into perky peaks that beckoned his mouth to wrap his lips around. Within seconds she was almost screaming in her release that came so suddenly, so hard as soon as his other hand descended to her clitoris and barely touched her.

Her response captivated him and everything else be damned; he had to be in her immediately. He grabbed her left leg, bringing up her knee so he had more access, his cock finding her entrance instantly, finding the lack of knickers convenient. He tried to hold off until she indicated she was ready. It was agony, until he heard her go ahead. "More, now," she demanded as her cunt settled and adjusted to his considerable size. "Hard. Fast." Her walls tensed and were quivering almost immediately, so he didn't have to wait. He released almost as fast as she did, thrusting up into her and pulsing his seed into her womb.

"Oh, shit. That was…" he was panting hard into her neck. "…fucking incredible. And fast, and, oh, shit, we forgot."

Hermione still managed to roll her eyes at him as she came down from her heights pleasure. "It's fine, Ron. I needed it to be fast tonight. And I took some potion, just before coming out here. We're good for three hours," she panted.

"Should have known," he smiled. "Very sexy by the way." He said his fingers snapping her garters playfully.

She smiled, knowingly. "Ron, I think I could have worn a paper bag and you would have, you know."

"True. That's a male for you. We're not too difficult to figure out. But, you girls…even with an absence, I thought a little romance would be nice. Honestly, I didn't think you would go for sex in a garage, though."

"But look at the effort you made: heating the place, beautiful lights. I could overlook the rest. Besides, if it came right down to it, I missed you so much, you could have had me on top my long coat."

He glanced at her almost floor length navy blue coat hanging on the hook by the door. "Well, that's something to keep in mind."

Slowly, they regained their normal heart rates, cleaned themselves up with their wands and adjusted their clothing.

Ron's eyebrows rose excitedly. "Okay, One, presents time!"

She smiled. "You haven't used that nickname in a while." She liked it even though it was a number. She knew the history behind it. They decided to get some alone time one Sunday before she started back to Hogwarts, and go for a walk. Ron was being typical Ron, but as funny as he could be, he had an air of realism about his chit chat. "Hermione, I love your name; it's unique, like you. But it's a long one sometimes."

"You called me 'Mione,' once."

"I what?"

"You called me Mione."

He looked at her as if she were mad. "When?"

"Um, when you were sick, and a little out of it," she replied, a soft pained smile crossing her features.

"Come again?"

"The poison. You were unconscious. The only thing you said, apparently, was some semblance of my name. It happened after I spoke. We thought you were coming to and then you were quiet again." Her voice became low and strained as the emotion of almost losing him bubbled up from the pit in her stomach. She became quiet and just stared ahead, not taking in any of the lovely country scenery around her. In front of her she saw him lying pale and deathly still in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. They continued walking hand in hand down the road on their way to Ottery-St. Catchpole to pick up a Muggle newspaper for her and have a light lunch at the small cafe.

He noted her sudden quietness, her brow furrowed at the memory. He stopped; she followed suit. His hand came up to cup her cheek. "I'm okay. It's just a memory."

"One of the worst days of my life, Ron. We weren't speaking to each other then, and to come that close to losing you, with such distance between us…"

He wrapped his arms around her held her close a moment. He repeated, "I'm okay. There's no distance between us now. And maybe you should consider the silver lining there."

"Which would be…well, other than the fact you recovered, of course." She looked up at him, his hands descending to her upper arms.

"Was that the first moment you understood that I did return feelings for you, despite the stupid things I was doing?"

"Yes."

"Well then it was day _one_ of us getting going, maybe? Good birthday present, after all." She smiled at the thought. "Plus, it's in your name."

"Pardon me?"

"One: the last three letters of your name. But, you're _my_ first priority. My number one."

She smiled exasperatedly and slightly in awe. "I can't believe you just convinced me to find being called a number—endearing." She rolled her eyes at herself.

"Well, that will be private, between you and me. I wouldn't want anyone thinking I've…what's the word you use?

"Objectify."

"Yeah, that one. I wouldn't want anyone thinking I've objectified you to a mere number. You and I know it has nothing to do with rating a beautiful, intelligent, incredible woman. But, if you don't like it, I won't use it. But, I'm thinking it, now."

"Privately then, is fine, Ron. Actually, it's kinda sweet," she blushed.

Hermione's mind returned to the present and the suspended Christmas lights in front of her. Ron had disappeared behind the shelving that contained Arthur's plug collection and was making his way back to her. She smiled at him.

He shrugged a little shyly. Alright, here you go." He pulled a beautifully wrapped box from behind his back. Definitely wrapped at the store, she thought.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Can I open it now?"

"No, I thought January 17th, might be a nice time," he said rolling his eyes. "Of course, it's Christmas," he said rolling his eyes.

Hermione dug in with excitement. She unwrapped an ornately carved chest, the size of a standard jewelry box. She ran her fingers over the beautiful carvings, appreciating the workmanship that her father and late grandfather had taught about. She turned the chest towards her to read the brass plate on it: _Runes Translation Quill Set_. Hermione gasped in wonder and gently opened the chest to see the cerulean blue quill, brass stand and magical note pad.

"I thought they might help. You said you wanted to translate the original texts of Beedle the Bard. Well, if there are any runes you run into that you don't know, it might come in handy. You just draw the rune and the pad translates it into English."

"Ron! This is wonderful! I didn't know they made these!"

"Well, they're not in just any store. That's for sure. I went to the library and spoke to the clerk there about runes and stuff and she mentioned this specialty shop, as well as pointing me in a few other directions."

"What? Ronald Weasley went to the library? And it wasn't for Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts books? I'm impressed." She stared at the gift again, her mind churning his words. "Wait, what other directions?" It still stunned her to walk into the apartment and see Ron's nose buried in a book with such concentration that he didn't notice her walk in.

"Here," he said as he produced a gift bag of books of ancient magical tales in runes. "They have the translations at the back if you want to read them or don't have the time to do it yourself. But you seem to really be taking an interest in magical literature. Beedle isn't the only author, you know."

"Ron, this is lovely. Thank you. Now, what I bought you just doesn't seem to compare."

"Oh, where is it?" he said, rubbing his hands together in childish anticipation.

"Where are _they_, Ronald?" she corrected.

She picked up her bag and took out a package for him to dive into and he was delighted to find two new handsome jumpers and shirts for work, and a Chudley Cannons T-Shirt. He was very pleased with the gifts.

"Do you think that's all I got for you? Look a little closer at the T-Shirt, sweetheart."

Inside and attached to the tag of the T-Shirt was a ribbon that held an envelope. Inside were two tickets to each of the remaining home games of the Chudley Cannons.

"Hermione! For real?" he picked her up and spun her around. Then he set her down and looked worried. "Hermione, you're barkin'. That's too much."

"Not when you give me a look like that it isn't." She leaned in and kissed him as passionately as he had kissed her earlier. "Happy Christmas, my love. Oh, by the way, I am not to be the first person on your list to take with you. Those are for guys' night out. Take Harry, or whomever you think will enjoy it with you. I like Quidditch, but not the way you guys do. So, seriously, take anyone you want with you. Although I would love a date night with you, I'll be your _last resort, _gladly."

They embraced and kissed again. "Okay, time for the next gift!" he said.

"What?"

"Come on." He took her hand and led her towards the back door of the garage. Something stood to the side with a white sheet over it. "It's my first, so be gentle, okay?"

Hermione stared at him with a questioning look.

"It's under the sheet."

"Oh." She stepped forward and removed the cloth to discover a hip height book shelf made of oak with tongue and groove back, with crown molding.

"I thought it might be okay in our new place. Our first piece of furniture together," he said with such hope in his voice that she was speechless.

"Your, first? You…made this Ron?"

"Uh, yeah. Your dad let me use his miter saw for the molding. He can do better, obviously. I was storing it in his garage, well, I made it there too," he finished nervously. She still hadn't commented whether she liked it, or not.

"Ron! It's beautiful," she said running a hand along the top of it. She was flabbergasted. She turned and hugged him deeply, so touched.

"I'll stain it whatever color you want, for whatever room it goes in. It will fit under a window. You can use it for some of your books, or at the entrance by the door, or a TV stand. I can put some doors on it if you like."

"It's perfect. I love it. Thank you." She hugged him again and gave him an appreciative kiss.

"Okay, one more surprise.'

"What? Ron, this is too much…" she tilted her head towards the quill set, the books, and now the shelving that he had made for her.

He then took out his wand, extinguished the Christmas lights by pointing it the little box in the rafters. "I learned how to make a mini electrical generator, very similar to Muggle batteries, but it acts as a hybrid junction box between magic and electricity. Cool, huh? You can plug electrical stuff into it, but it is magically powered."

"Wow. I didn't know they were able to do that, now," said an impressed Hermione.

Then he opened the door of the wood stove and flourished his wand at the embers and a gush of water sprouted from the end of his wand doused any potential fire. "Okay, close your eyes." Hermione obeyed and then felt a rush of cold air assault her when he opened the back door of the garage. "Okay, you can look."

Hermione opened her eyes to see him raising the covering off a large four seat red sleigh, full of heated blankets and pillows.

Hermione's mouth opened in shock. "Ron?"

"Shall we go for a ride? Muggles will see a horse pulling it, so no worries. I learned how to do that last week too."

"Yes! Let's get our coats."

Ron dashed back to the front of the garage, retrieved their coats and a thermos of hot chocolate and large travel mugs. He set them on the front chair which faced the back seat and stepped in. He held out his hand to assist her to climb in and then seated himself next to her. Grabbing the blankets, he covered their legs with them and then filled the mugs with hot chocolate before they set out for a moonlit sleigh ride for two. Hermione just shook her head in amazement and was speechless for minutes. Tears falling down her cheeks were for how much effort he had put into their Christmas together. She was genuinely touched.

"I hope those are good tears."

"Oh, yes. Ron, this is the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me." She kissed him and snuggled close, laying her head on his shoulder as they enjoyed the night and the only sound was that of the sleigh treads making sleek tracks in the freshly fallen snow.

Ron directed the sleigh toward a bluff that overlooked the village where they could sit and watch the lights.

"When did you start making the shelving, Ron?"

"About six weeks ago. I'm not that fast," he admitted.

"Does that mean you were thinking of moving in together then?"

"Uh, yeah. You sorta trumped me a bit. Beat me to the punch on asking you, but I was planning it. I just wanted to make it a bit more special."

"You were planning on that being a part of this evening?"

"Yup. But, one of the reasons I love you is that you go after what you want. So, how could I fault you for speaking your mind on something that we both would obviously benefit from?"

"Sorry to rain on your parade, honey."

He shrugged it off. A few snow flurries began to fall lightly and Ron took a deep breath. His mind working on how to bring up the next bit.

"You look pensive."

"Nah. Just thinking about something," he joked. She laughed softly.

"So, how about those apartments? Or did you find any small houses for rent that we could afford."

"Oh, yes. I have three apartments to view, and a small two bedroom house for rent in Gloucestershire, near Tetbury. We haven't really discussed where we want to live. Do you want to stay in town, or suburbs of London, or out in the country? I'll have to alter my search perimeters."

"Well, it depends on if we rent…or buy."

"Buy?"

"Yeah. Don't you think we could do that instead of wasting a lot of money on rent? We do have one problem, though. Gringott's doesn't exactly like us after what we did to their bank, and setting their dragon free. Three teenagers humiliated them with a successful in a break-in. So we have to be pretty secure in whatever we do, be prepared to not get a house loan I suppose." He took a deep breath. It troubled him that they might not be able to get a home, but he had spoken to Bill who was barely able to get his job back after Voldemort's death. He had begun to put feelers out for Ron at the bank. Harry and Ginny had not run into this problem. He already had a house.

She stared at him, blood draining from her face as this new option came from his lips. "We'll manage," she whispered. Hermione Granger was effectively speechless. He stared at her a moment letting her process that a little more.

"Buy?"

He laughed lightly. "Yeah. What do you think?"

She continued to stare at him almost blankly. Well, if he shocked her with that, then he might as well continue, he thought. He removed the blanket from his legs and stood up to exit the sleigh. With the lights of the little town behind him and the snow beginning to gently fall, his right hand moved to his pocket as he shifted his weight to his right foot only. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his left foot off the ground to get down on one knee in the snow.

Before he could begin to lower himself, or remove the velvet box from his pocket, her voice rang out. "Ronald Weasley, will you marry me?"

He froze. His eyes turned as round as saucers, practically bulging from his face. His lips parted in amazed shock, opening and closing like a fish, but no sound escaped him for a moment. She did it again.

"What?" he finally said. Disappointment and incomprehension crossed his features.

oOo

A/N: Well, sorry. It wouldn't be Ron and Hermione if everything went smoothly, now would it? Thanks to Kari for the encouragement to go with the new ending, even if it takes a little longer to re-write. I hope it will be worth the wait.

Thanks also for the lovely comments on the Weasley ornament tradition.

Harry and Ginny's wedding description is of one I went to and it was the most incredible ceremony I have ever experienced—though a little cold! It was truly magical. I considered giving it to Ron and Hermione, but I needed a sleigh at the Burrow, so suddenly, Harry and Ginny's wedding provided some reason for its presence. I just don't think Ron would be THAT organized and romantic to rent one himself.


	8. And To Respond

Chapter 8: And To Respond

_Echo:_

"Ronald Weasley, will you marry me?"

His eyes turned as round as saucers, practically bulging from his face, his chin dropping his mouth open in silent wonder. His lips parted in amazed shock, opening and closing like a fish.

"What?" he finally said. Disappointment crossing his features.

oOo

"I said, will you marry me?" she said softly, blushing.

Ron was still in a state of shock at this turn. His head began shaking in a negative pattern, not because he didn't want to marry this girl, but because he couldn't believe she preempted him, _again_. All his planning twice thwarted. For a few moments he fell back into their old pattern and he couldn't see the forest for the trees, losing track of the real issue. His eyes searched the sky in frustration, his forehead furrowing with aggravated lines.

"Unbelievable! Are you…serious?" he finally questioned her in a terse tone, through clenched teeth, his eyebrows knitting together. He resisted putting in the adjective effing, but she could hear the unvoiced curse in his tone.

"What do you mean? Am I serious? What kind of question is that?" she demanded, now standing, the blankets falling to her feet. With her hands on her hips indignantly, she looked down on him on the snow covered ground.

"You just…" his teeth gritted together in frustration. He was speechless again.

"Well, it's not the type of question you joke about! Do you want to marry me or not?" she said forcefully. This was not how she imagined such a situation.

"Well, yeah, but Merlin! Can you not just let me take the lead, just once?" he said with obvious irritation.

"If I waited for you to take the lead, Ron, we'd be here 'til next year. And did you just say yes?" she added. And then, without skipping a beat, she continued. "But on another point," her hand arced through the air as if she could wipe away her words on a chalk board. "Why does it have to be the man asking? I see no reason why the woman can't ask the man she loves to marry her and spend the rest of their lives together when it is obvious it's what they both want! Even if he is being pig-headed about it."

"Pig-headed? Pig-headed? You're… piggy-backing my set up!" he said in frustration, his head shaking his annoyance.

"I'm what?"

"I set this up! The meeting, the Christmas lights, the sleigh ride, the warm blankets and hot chocolate you love so much. And if I could have, I would have controlled the God-damned weather for you!"

"Piggy-back? Watch your language. Piggy-back? The way you piggy-backed all those essays I formatted for you at school?" Like him, she lost the actual reason they were out there to begin with.

"That's different."

"How? I formatted and then you took it from there. Well, don't you see the parallel here? We're both after the same thing. You said earlier that you liked how I knew my mind and went after what I want. Well, what I want is you, you idiot!"

"But…Hermione, I did all this because I wanted you to feel how special you are to me! How I always want you to feel special! And that I want you to remember this," he took a step back, his hand indicating the whole setting as he continued. "…even when times are hard, or there are kids, and it's hard to have those romantic moments together because they'll keep us busy and focused on them a lot! That in my heart, I would treat you this way as often as I could….I wanted you to remember feeling this when you looked at your ring…" Though is voice started out gruff, it slowly softened and that affected her too.

"My ring?" she voice softly, suddenly truly realizing what she had done. Her hands came off her hips to grip the side of the sleigh, needing to steady herself suddenly.

"Yeah," his voice softened dejectedly. His hand unconsciously gripped his pocket with the ring box inside.

"Yes," she said simply, her eyes locking on to his.

"What?"

"Yes," she smiled feebly.

Ron froze a moment, staring at her, a step above him as she still stood on the sleigh's platform, he on the ground, in the snow. "Yes?" She nodded. He looked up at her strangely uncomfortable with how things had turned. "Um, do you mind if we start this part over?"

"Pardon?" she managed, after realizing they had just become truly engaged.

"I…I just want to do this right. You know, after my traditional initial goof up with you."

She nodded, smiling. "You didn't goof up, honey," she whispered softly as tears pressed at the back of her eyes. "Actually, I think I did. I was just overwhelmed with everything that I blurted out…what I felt. I interrupted…_your moment_." Their conversation after their first kiss during the night of nightmares churned forward in her mind. In that moment she had commented on the proposal being a guy's most special moment in the relationship, and she had trampled on it without meaning to in such a direct manner. "And, I'm sorry I did that to you. You're right. You planned the most perfect night and I…"

He shook his head, indicating he wanted her to stop the apology. She immediately saw his perspective and understood how he softened when she acknowledged that. It was a hard lesson learned during third year when he thought Crookshanks had killed Scabbers and she had not acknowledged his feelings in the situation until late in the year. Making the effort to see each other's point of view had changed their arguments drastically, and shortened the intense portion significantly.

Feeling validated, he shifted on his feet a moment, swallowed, then moved directly in front of her. Taking off his glove, he held out his hand to her. She looked at his open palm inviting her hand, and gently placed hers in his, her cheeks beginning to hurt with the effort of keeping herself from breaking down and diving into his arms. Their eyes met a moment, both blushing, before he shifted his weight to his right foot, and lowered himself on one knee in the snow, not caring one iota about the cold wet. At that moment, he felt like he was in the middle of a heat wave. It didn't matter that he knew her answer already, he was suddenly more nervous than when he asked Del for permission to marry his daughter, because he knew she would be memorizing every word out of his mouth.

"Uh, I think I said what I wanted to say earlier, so I'll have to improvise here a bit." Hermione blushed sympathetically.

"Hermione Jean Granger," he began, took a breath of air and continued as his face slowly turned crimson. "We have been part of each other's lives for as long as I can truly remember. We've been through the normal daily things together, through a lot of toughest times imaginable, and during the greatest moments of my life, you've been the one constant that I've shared them with. You are the one person I want to share all the good times to come with, and if there are tough times ahead, then I want to be there for each other. I am the happiest when I am with you. We have something really special. I love you; I just don't have the words to get across how much I do. I want to make you happy. I want to spend the rest of our lives together. Will you marry me?" He was not quite happy with how it came out, but it did the trick.

Hermione stared at him a brief second, committing all he said to memory before a smile broke across her features that spread deeply into her shining eyes. "Yes!" She was so overcome with emotion that she kicked what remained of the blankets away from her feet and jumped into Ron's arms and kissed him hard and full. It was such an enthusiastic leap into him that she knocked him over and they landed in the soft snow on his back. Their lips met after what felt like an eternity apart. This was a kiss that held and gave all: promise, love, commitment. It was full of shared history, memory, love for each other, and hope for their future together. They were lying in the snow but neither of them noticed. It didn't matter.

Finally, Ron pulled back and looked at eyes gazing at him full of love. He was mesmerized for a moment and then a thought occurred to him and he did all he could not to let it filter into his eyes. He lifted his head slightly to indicate he yearned to kiss her again and again. She reciprocated immediately; sinking so deeply into their kiss, into him as his arms tightened around her a moment and then his right hand left her back in search of something. She was so engrossed in the kiss; she didn't realized what he was doing.

_Well, she can interrupt the proposal, but she's not going to get a traditional moment for getting her ring._

He groped around in the snow before finding just enough to bring up and smudge into her hair.

"Ah! Ron! That's cold! It went down my neck!" she yelped. Immediately, she jumped off him, kneeling and then standing and jumping up and down as she tried to get the snow to either sink all the way down and fall out of her coat or clutch at it from the top. "Oi! You wanker! What a way to ruin a beautiful moment!"

He raised his eyebrows at her as he got to his feet. She understood. He gave as good as he got. "All right, I deserved that," she admitted.

No sooner was she successful in getting the snow out of her coat, than a snowball hit her directly in the stomach.

"Gotcha!" he teased, already stooping for another gathering of snow.

"No way! Not fair!" She dove to the ground to avoid another ball coming at her. It was a self defeating action when her purpose was to not become covered in snow. But, she had done it herself rather than let him hit her. He was laughing at the irony of what she had done. She gathered some snow herself, got up and threw it at him quickly in annoyance, but missed.

"You can do better than that, can't you?" he taunted.

That spurred her on. She grabbed more snow, packed it together and let loose. Ron easily ducked, shaking his head sympathetically at her. Then he moved slightly out of sight behind the sleigh where he removed the box from his pocket.

Hermione could see him doing something. She assumed he was setting up a few balls for rapid fire, his usual strategy. Ron Weasley was nothing if not efficient in a snowball fight after years of practice with his brothers. She, on the other hand did not have that particular training while a child. But, she had Ron and Harry, who generally ganged up on her, before she would give up and they had to turn on each other over the years. "Come out here, Weasley, you chicken!" She aimed again and in her excitement, trying to get him before he turned on her again. She missed him again.

"All's fair in love and war, sweetheart! Ah, pathetic! Want me to write you a book on how to properly engage in a snowball fight?" he teased. Just then, one narrowly missed his head. He grinned. "Good one! Much better!" Then he turned and advanced on her.

She huffed in frustration, blowing hair from her face, and was about to reach for more, when Ron blocked her, pulled her to him, his face bright and pink and his eyes smiling with mischievous amusement and…love. He had a rather large ball in his hand, and he seemed to be advancing for a point blank range shot at her. She winced, her shoulders coming up instinctively to block snow from going down her collar as his right hand came down in a swooping arc, but did not make contact. Nothing happened. Instead, she opened one eye to a perfectly formed snowball being offered to her.

Hermione looked at him strangely. Surely, this was a set up, a distraction, and he was going to get her with another one from his pocket, or something. But in that suspicious moment, his voice rang out softly instead of his throwing arm.

"You were never a very good throw during our snowball fights. I thought I'd give you this one, but there's one condition," he said and stopped to make sure she was following his train of thought.

"Condition? I don't want to cheat, Ron," she said suspiciously, her chest heaving and slightly out of breath.

He shook his head, amused, indicating she'd gotten the wrong idea. "You have to break it right here, over my heart." He took her hand and placed the snowball in her gloved palm and then gently guided it to his chest. "Because it belongs to you, and always has."

Hermione was caught off guard with the sudden change in the situation, from all out war to having her heart dissolve at the look he was giving her and the emotion in his voice. She had never seen him turn so lovingly serious, so quickly. Was this a setup? If it was, she was falling for it. His eyes never left hers as he spoke, or took her hand. He did all peripherally and she felt like his eyes were slowly making love to her as she watched his mouth open and close, forming his words so sensuously and with clear deliberation. Ron Weasley had a charisma all his own and when he turned it on, she was instantly charmed and breathlessly silent in anticipation. Unwittingly, her mouth opened, her tongue and teeth yearning for him in everyway.

"Oh," her voice quivered at the most loving thing he had ever said to her. Her eyes descended to the snowball in her hand, over his heart. Suddenly, in the middle of a snowball fight and competition, she was at the extreme opposite end of the emotional spectrum, overwhelmed with closeness—this connection of theirs that no one else truly understood but them. She was assaulted with the vision of him washing her hair between nightmares and the rush of emotions she felt as a future with him appeared possible for the first time. Now it was not just possible, not even probable. Now she felt certain.

She crushed it against him, his hand having moved to cup underneath as a precaution. She felt it crumble into him and break apart as her fingers began to squeeze the outer layers of snow, the chunks falling to the ground or onto Ron's coat and thighs. That's when she felt it, something hard that certainly was not snow. Her eyes moved to his and then back to her hand in curiosity. Her soul ached at the onslaught of every happy emotion. Her breath hiccupped. At the center was a midnight blue velvet gem box.

Hermione could honestly say that she could not put coherent thought together in this moment. She was not only speechless, but dumbfounded on how he had turned the moment on her, changing gears at what felt like breakneck speed. She could not have predicted he would start a snowball fight to mask giving her her engagement ring. Gingerly she opened the box, her fingers shaking. She inhaled at the sight in front of her. For one brief moment, she even forgot to breathe. It was perfect and it sparkled in the wee bit of moonlight that was beginning to break through the clouds which had now emptied of their burden. Her eyes widened; her mouth slowly opening in sweet wonder. Ron gently took the box, removed the ring. She quickly removed her glove and he slid the diamonds over the third finger of her left hand. She gazed at the large beautiful brilliant diamond that stood at the peak. Flanking it from both sides were three tapered baguette diamonds running lengthwise down the arms. The design held a total of seven stones on a platinum band. Seven—the magical number.

She stared at the ring on her finger again before a cathartic burst of laughter escaped her, suddenly feeling as if she were floating in front of him. Gravity had disappeared as her heart seemed to soar above her body. How could this night get any better? Tears were now evident on both their cheeks. Ron held her hand and bent his lips to the back of it and kissed it before straightening up to look her directly in the eye. Reading each others' thoughts they slowly moved in to each other, their lips meeting in perfect harmony, exploring, claiming anew, and giving to each other the love that was in their hearts.

Hermione stepped back to study the ring on her finger again. She was shaking her head, almost speechless. "Ron…beautiful. It's…stunning." Hermione was so overwhelmed by everything, she knew she would start crying too hard if she stayed there. Suddenly, she pulled out her wand and left him, running in a circle around the sleigh spreading enchantments of concealment around them the way she had when they were on the run from Voldemort and hiding in the tent.

"What the…?" he said, his eyes following her sudden departure and then encirclement.

She came back to him and flourished her wand in the direction of the sleigh and one of the oversized blankets rose up and arched over it like a covered wagon. She grabbed the empty mugs of hot chocolate and made her bluebell flames for warmth and light. Again she flourished her wand and the retracted plank came out from beneath the seat they had used earlier, now extending between the front and back seats covering the lowered area of the sleigh where their feet would be if seated. It was covered in padded black leather like the rest of the seating, and effectively made a bed.

Satisfied, she turned around to see Ron watching her with an amused grin on his face. Deciding to wipe it off his face, she reached out and grabbed Ron by the collar and pulled him into the now covered and heated sleigh, backing herself into it as she pulled him on top of her. Tossing aside his jacket she slid her hands over his broad shoulders and around his neck, her breasts pushing against his weight, taunting him with what he knew they could do through the open coat. He kicked off his boots and crawled beside her, slowly removing her high heeled boots too, and pushing off her coat to become another layer under them. They made love with the fervor of their first time together, but with the learned knowledge of each other's bodies.

Their lips met again in what started out to be a romantic kiss, but the moan she elicited from him was bordering on primal and immediately infectious. She drank it in and was taken over by the need to be with him as he covered her with his body. Her hips moved against his, grinding into him, with increasing demand of his response, wanting him more by the second. He answered her instantly, pushing back against her with his own thrusts through his trousers, teasing her with what they would be doing so fully and completely in just a few moments. His left hand moved up to her neck, arched her head back before his thumb began tracing a sensitive line down her throat. Her breath started in anticipation of tingly contact. His fingers traced both sides of her collarbone, before moving down to the enticing valley between her breasts. Then his lips followed. Her hands slid behind his lower back and slowly made their way over buttocks, squeezing tightly and pulling him into her, before she released him and arched her upper body, offering her breasts to him in response to his lips. Her breathing was becoming shallow and she felt her need for him saturate her below. "Ron."

Shifting his position to her side to lean on his left elbow, his right hand moved down her front while his left hand pulled a little more on her hair, increasing her arch and taking what was being offered to him. He pulled apart her blouse, exposing her bra covered breasts before he released them from their black cups. His licked both peaks, blowing on them to get the expected rise from her. He latched on to one, sucking and pulling and kneading a moan from her lips as her body began to writhe under him. A moment later, his mouth dove to her throat, kissing and nipping at her as he seemed to sear her with his tongue as he made his way back up to her lips, claiming her mouth. A moan of ecstasy escaped her, encouraging him over and over again. He moved to her ear and before taking it in his mouth, he blew on it hotly, priming her, driving her mad with the auditory stimulation. He knew what day it was for her because she orgasmed so quick earlier that evening. If he teased her in just the right amounts in her upper body, her lower body would erupt even without penetration. His tongue slipped from his mouth, tracing the contours of her ear as she listened to his breathing harden and increase into short breaths betraying his own stimulation. She could hear the movement of juices in his mouth as his tongue moved over sensuously. She imagined his juices as hers below, and his tongue moving about in her. She gasped. His mouth enclosed around her ear, knowing it would drive her to new heights.

A shiver went through her body as she listened to his tongue working. The image it conjured in her head of what else he could do with it driving her hands harder on his ass, grasping, pulling him in harder. She could see in her minds eye his head between her legs, her hands through his hair, pulling and controlling his head to exact angles. She gasped again her eagerness.

He smirked, "Patience, we'll get there. We have the rest of our lives to get there together."

"Ron! The rest of lives starts now!" she panted as her hands moved quickly to the buckle of his belt. "You can't do that to me and you know it, and not expect me to react! Not after being without you for two weeks." She became mildly annoyed at his belt buckle hiding the button of his trousers. His eyebrows raised in amusement, he moved to help unfasten the offending objects for her then he leaned into her and kissed her again. He stopped and looked directly into her firelit, lusty, dark eyes as she reached into his pants to take hold of him. His eyes rolled back in his head nearly forgetting what he was about to do to her. Enjoying her ministrations a moment longer, he continued his earlier quest. With great effort, he re-focused on his earlier goal. His hand roamed down her belly, pulling her blouse from her skirt, he inserted his finger into her navel where he made a fast, deep, downward stirring motion, making contact with the highest, deepest part of her clitoris. That, he had discovered, sent tingles between her legs.

"Ron, Ron!" Her legs began to quiver, rising on their own accord. He latched on to her breast quickly as her own hands quickly flew to pull her skirt up, instinctively going for her swollen labia under the garter. But it wasn't needed. Barely making contact and she was going to go over the edge just from his sensual attention to her breasts and navel. He watched her in fascination, becoming harder as he took in her erotic response to him. That he could do these things to her turned him on so much.

"Shit, Hermione, witch be damned! You have magical tits."

"Two weeks, Ron. I missed you," she panted as she came down slowly. "But, I still need more of you, and you, me."

She sat up, her skirt rising to above he butt cheeks as she straddled him. She reached for the side tie of her blouse and slowly pulled the string, releasing her completely, tantalizing him with a different glimpse of what was about to come. Slowly she pulled off the offending material, her eyes never leaving his. He sat up to meet her kissing her deeply as she cupped his face in her hands before he moved to her breasts again. The cups of her bra had moved back up slightly over her nipples, but not fully as they heaved against the silky constraints. This tease was more than he could withstand, not that she wanted him to. He pulled the cups back down; he could not get enough of them, and took one in his mouth again while his hands slid up her shoulders, pulling down the straps to her elbows. Then his hands went on a journey behind her back to unclasp her bra and off it came landing somewhere in the sleigh. He pulled back to admire her. "So beautiful. Mine."

Their eyes dark with lust for each other, their hands reaching to touch, their mouths opened to one another again for their tongues to dance together in compliment. When he felt her reach down between them to his shaft, he took her tongue in and sucked so hard, their teeth crashing an instant together.

She smiled at her effect as she took hold of him. "And this, is mine," she said huskily.

"Fuck! Hermione," he panted when she moved lower, pushing his legs apart and cupped his sack and squeezed. She moved back to his shaft, marveling how hard she could make him.

"Yes, it is. All yours. What are you going to do with it?" His hand moved down her back to squeeze her ass. He sent shivers through her to her very core when he spoke to her like that.

"This." She pushed his shoulders down to her coat underneath them, and then spread herself over Ron lengthwise. With a mischievous look, she brought her knees up so that her toes hooked into the waistline of his underpants. Straightening her legs, down came all, releasing him from the cumbersome clothing. He gave her an impressed look. She then grabbed his shirt and pulled it off him with a little help from him to lift his weight for a second. She rose up and and seated herself back down on him, lowering herself to swallow him whole. "Fill me up, Ron. Oh…" His head pushed back, his eyes shut tight for a moment, taking in her heat until he felt her move, circling her hips around him. He opened his eyes to this incredible woman riding him.

"That's right, don't look away, love." She smiled at him seductively. Flexing her thighs to support her weight on him, her hands swept over his muscled chest and she bent down to take his nipple between her teeth. "I want you too." She noticed his eyes on her breasts. "What shall we do with these?" she said as she continued to grind into him.

"Touch them for me." Her eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. She licked her fingers and brought them to her nipples, wetting them, and then pinching them as she watched him lick his lips. Her hands massaged her breasts in circles, squeezing, letting her nipples escape in peaks between her fingers, driving him mad with desire. Their pumping together increased in speed, becoming harder as her walls squeezed him tighter beginning shivers and tingles running through her body, her legs shaking suddenly, more forcefully than before and she had to reach for the sides of the sleigh for support. He held onto her ass, guiding it up and down on him as she tightened her hold on him from inside. Their breaths together laboured as each endeavored to give the other an orgasm to remember. The pressure built for both of them until the need for release was too overwhelming to control any longer. "Come for me, Hermione."

That was all she needed, her name from his lips in a sexy voice that filled her with his desire. She reached her peak and the fire burned through her body from her core. "Ron!" He could ignite in her more passion and response than anything she had ever dreamed ecstasy could feel like. Watching her tumble over the edge was enough to bring him to the point of no return. He joined her on the other side, both of them screaming the other's name.

They lay together spent in each other's arms, enjoying the closeness as their breathing returned to normal. Ron reached down and grabbed a blanket to cover them and cradled her in his arms. He laughed quietly, amused that he knew her body so well and its reactions at just the right times.

"What, pray tell, has you so amused?"

"You," he said, kissing her forehead.

"Excuse me?"

"Magical breasts," he elaborated slightly as he let his hands roam over them before he moved to take one in his mouth tenderly.

"Oh God, Ron! You're insatiable!"

"Me? Ha! I know what day this is. I did a little calculation in my head when…well."

"Calculation?"

"Yeah. I can count you know."

She shook her head and then couldn't help but let a small moan escape as he traced the edges of her aereola.

"It's day 12, isn't it?" he said simply.

"Day? What?"

"Of your cycle. That's why your breasts are that much more…magical. They can make us both come. Me, well all I gotta do is look at you and I'm hard. You? Well…" His eyebrows shot up suggestively, thinking of her earlier manipulation of her own anatomy.

"How do you know what day it is?" she thought back, and he was indeed right.

"My dear, I've been watching you for years. But back when we were on the run, you would have back pain the day before your cycle started. Well, I remember us having to go get certain necessities and you were kneading at your back that day. I didn't really put it together then, of course, but since we've been together, I've noticed a recurrence—on a monthly basis."

She frowned, mildly uncomfortable that he had noticed she had put feminine products in the grocery cart. She had thought she covered them quick enough with a box of cereal—a decadent birthday present to Ron that they could all partake in. They usually only went to Muggle grocery stores for bathroom products, tea, salt, pepper and some fruits and vegetables every few weeks when their energy was too low from only living off what they hunted or fished. "Wow! I hadn't realized you noticed that. That's weird, Ron."

"Good for an auror to be observant, don't you think?"

"So you observed me, did you?"

"I always observe you, my dear. You're not hard on the eyes, you know." He kissed her again.

"And?"

"Well, you turn out to be consistently sensitive on days 12-14. Which usually means, it's easier to convince you to have sex," he said suggestively and rather smug.

"So, this is a set up? Is that what you're saying?" she said, intrigued, annoyed and impressed all at once. Was she really that easy to predict?

"I can hardly be held responsible for matching up your cycle with Christmas Eve. I'm good," he said with a grin. "But, not that good."

Deciding to let it go, she countered. "I beg to differ, Mr. Weasley. I," she landed a soft kiss on his lips, and continued in that fashion "…beg…to …differ." She kissed him with each word, the heat rising with each word.

"Well, this was an unexpected turn of events," he indicated the blanket covered sleigh and their current situation. "Not that I'm complaining," he smiled afterwards.

"This is the most wonderful night of my life," she whispered. "Can we make this a tradition?"

"I'm all for that!" he quipped without missing a beat.

"Oh, I'm so excited. I can't wait to tell people," she said examining her new ring.

"Me too. However, if your mother is going to start asking questions about how we plan on spending our future, maybe we should have a discussion about that. We can't keep going on with you spending weekends with me at the shop flat in London and you spending the week nights at your parents. We need to get serious about a home, and what we can afford." He told her how much he had saved from working at the shop and then the six months at the Ministry.

"Merlin's beard, Ron! That's incredible! How did you manage that?"

"Well, I've obviously had a goal in mind." He looked at her ring. "That makes giving up luxuries pretty easy, not that those have ever been part of my life. But the few ideas I had for products, well,George insisted I get 50% of the profits for those particular items. Sorry I didn't tell you. That paid for your ring. I couldn't very well make it a surprise if you knew I had a sudden increase in cash flow, could I? I told George I'd be moving out soon. Didn't seem to bother him at all. I think Angie will be taking over my share of the rent there as soon as I vacate—if not before. Anyway, maybe during the holidays we could start house hunting, and that way while we wait for our big day, money won't be thrown away on rent, but invested into our future."

Hermione shook her head. "Wow! I've only saved half that much."

"Honey, you've been in school longer and taking specialty training for your Ministry job. You haven't had the chance. It's not a competition, you know."

"Pinch me, I must be dreaming, I'm so happy."

His eyebrows lifted while his hand roamed down to her backside and he gave it a pinch. She yelped, and laughed. "You're not dreaming, and I've never been happier before in my life either. Unfortunately, do you think we should get dressed and head back?"

"You're probably right," she agreed. They got their clothes on and Hermione exited the sleigh to remove the enchantments that concealed them from Muggle and Magical eyes and quickly got back in the sleigh with Ron and they headed back to the Burrow making plans for their future together.

"Two o'clock already. We're going to be tired in the morning," he mused as he pulled her in closer during the last few minutes of their ride back.

"It doesn't matter how late we're out. I don't think I can sleep, I'm so excited. I want to wake everyone up! Hmm, we should ask my father though, he would appreciate that."

"I did already, he shook my hand," he said proudly.

"You asked my dad to marry me? Ron, that's so sweet!"

"Isn't that what Muggles do?"

"Yes, but I didn't think you knew that barbaric tradition?"

"Oh, a little snitch told me," he smirked.

The sleigh pulled up to the garage and they went inside to get their smaller presents and then made their way the back door of the house, their arms laden with gifts that spoke of their effort to respect and inspire each other's individual interests.

They entered the house quietly, taking care to block the spring on the back door before it slammed shut automatically. They set their gifts on the kitchen table and removed their outerwear. Within moments they were back in each other's arms again, his hand caressing her neck and tilting her head up to his to reestablish their connection. Her hands wrapped around his waist pulling on him to get closer before they had to part company for the night. It seemed so ridiculous to them. They practically lived together on weekends, and now they were engaged to be married. But Molly didn't know that.

Their kisses were romantic, savouring each other and the sweetness that was there for any to see had they walked in. They didn't care. Who would be up at this time of night, anyway? So wrapped up in each other were they that they didn't hear the creaking of the stairs behind them and a sudden sound of a reprimanding throat clearing.

A/N: In another Chapter 3, I asked if anyone noticed anything about the chapter title. Well, it, and the titles of Chapters 7 and 8 were my wedding vows. Putting those in is what made me not do all "A" chapters titles.

Hope you didn't find they argued too long. My original story was a smooth sailing proposal. This was more fun to write, plus I wanted them to argue, but from a new more mature stance to see how they've grown as individuals and a couple. Hope that came across.

Mrandmrsweasley review—good eye for the continuity regarding Ron's comment of Hermione's character in the last chapter. I smiled ear to ear, when in your PM, you commented on "Your moment" regarding the proposal discussion in Hermione's Worst Nightmare. I thought I'd slip that one past people, to get people thinking and flashing back. There is a reason this is a continuous arc after all.

Thanks for the great reviews for "lucky" Chapter 7 especially. Cliffhangers really do "inspire" people to comment if they are enjoying the story or not. Stats just say people visited, but not if they read and enjoyed. So I felt great reading them, and encouraged to flush the situation out a little more.

This is where the original story ended—with the sleigh ride back. But I think they have to share the news. I already have a "magical" idea on how they would do that. But I'm pleased to take suggestions. PM please if you don't want to review.


	9. To Give and to Receive

Chapter 9: To Give and To Receive

A/N: Serious apologies for not getting this chapter up in a timely manner. We had three power outages here which put off my writing as well as my paid work and totally messed my schedule. Not to mention, baking pies for Canadian Thanksgiving. Family arrives in one hour for the weekend. So, I may be rushing this a bit, but it is driving me nuts to keep people waiting who have been so kind to review and PM. I do beg forgiveness for any continuity errors. It's been the weirdest two weeks to find time to write.

Hope you enjoy the reveal. I think you can all guess one part that will happen for our favourite girl.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Kissing Ron Weasley had been something Hermione Granger had dreamed about, literally, when she was at school with him. He had full lips and she found herself staring at them a lot, especially at the beginning of sixth year. When he smiled, she thought his beautiful teeth were the luckiest parts of his body with their proximity to his lips. Imagine being those teeth and having his lips gently touching, caressing, and smoothly gliding across the surface as he grinned. To be part of a laugh that escaped him, the air coming from his throat with a guttural vibration of mirth, to be part of that face lighting up in amusement. These were heady thoughts and she could get caught lost in them if she wasn't so careful with strategically placed books.

Watching him observe other teams playing Quidditch was another way to just simply stare at him without his notice. Standing beside him in the Gryffindor stands, she gazed unnoticed as his head swiveled to follow the play, his chin jutting forward strongly, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed their strategy and plays and made mental notes of weaknesses he saw up front to comment on them during team meetings. His face was so determined and in the moment and she loved it when he shared his observations with her. When Ron Weasley was focused, he was a force to be reckoned with. And he wanted to contribute to the team so badly back then. His ability to strategize had saved them in first year on the giant chess board, and it had only gotten stronger as he got older and quite shrewd she had to admit. Of that she was sure. She knew it came in handy as an Auror, and she even heard Harry commenting on it at work. He didn't even know Hermione had entered the room, so it made the compliment that much nicer. It had not been for her benefit in any way; he was just appreciating anew what Ron had brought to the team since joining the department.

Two o'clock in the morning of the night of Christmas Eve and those eyes and lips now focused completely on her, and briefly she thought of how her dreams of him had come true. Not that she lived in her dreams though. She would be damned if she did that and had simply given in to her base instincts without some sort of sure knowledge he was ready, truly ready for what she wanted from him back then. When he had returned to her and Harry after the break-up in the tent while on the run, oh it would have been so easy to simply run into his soaking wet arms and just snog the magic out of him.

Indeed, she had dreamed of his return. Actually, dream was too mild a term for her thoughts back then; fantasize would be more like it. He would open the tent flap and silently stare at her with those piercing blue eyes, completely ignoring Harry and his discreet exit to take a walk. Harry who? She would stand there, staring back, speechless for just a breathtaking moment, wondering if her legs had forgotten how to function, before she launched herself towards him. His arms would come up, catching her, receiving her mind, body, and soul and give all that she gave back to her. He would hold her so close, so fully. The initial embrace would be deep and desperate feeling. So much relief at being together again would filter into every sinew of their bodies. They would hold on to each other so fiercely, as if to never let go again. Sinking her face into his neck, she would breathe in his scent and commit it to memory, before finally leaning back to look at his face directly. But this time, looking at him, she wouldn't be able to hide her feelings for him, her desire, and her love. It would be open for him to see. Her eyes would reflect his, his need for her, his raw desire, and his unending love. He would have come back for her—nothing and no one else. Her breasts, now wet from the embrace against him would be cold, yes, but evident and beckoning to him to see her fully as the woman she now was. Eyes locking on each other, their attraction undeniable, they would fulfill the next step of the dream and their lips would be drawn to each other, compelled beyond reason to find each other after what had almost been denied them. They would kiss and it would be so deep she would feel it all the way to her toes. At least, she had heard a kiss could do that to someone.

But to be honest, whenever she thought of that moment, it was not her toes that stirred, but a fire deep within her that began with a tingling between her legs. Her breasts would begin to heave and feel almost heavy in her bra as she dreamed of him touching her—there. Her breaths became short and erratic as she tried to regain her composure, especially if Harry had come into view. Then she would disappear into the loo, taking a book with her in case Harry wondered why she was taking so long.

However, things didn't quite work out as she dreamed. Did they ever in those early years? Seeing him in the flesh, after everything he'd put her through, had changed that reaction. Dreams did not fit the reality of life. The fight, the loss, the anger, the painful trial of coming to terms with the fact that they'd likely never see each other again, that he had chosen a warm bed at his mother's house over being there with her and a friendship with Harry. A relationship she sadly realized as she stared night after night at his cold, empty bed, was not his priority. Dreams and reality rarely actually met in her opinion. You can't live in dreams if you want them to come true, her mother had said. You have to live in reality and take the steps towards making a dream a reality.

Her mother, Monica, was a successful dentist, and an artist. She was highly intelligent and gifted person. Sculpting was her passion, it was what nurtured her soul. But the art would not provide her with the lifestyle she desired, so she had set about getting what she wanted. Dentistry offered a professional income, and the chance to interact with a wide range of people that could inspire her art. It also gave her the freedom to make her own schedule so that she could pursue her hobby.

Monica exercised a quiet, confident control of her family. Her personality was direct, but she was so down to earth. There was no way anyone could mistake her for anything less than competent and approachable in all facets of life. She quietly observed you, as if figuring out your soul in some way. That's how Ron had put it when he had discussed his meeting with her parents in Australia. Ron had told Hermione that Monica had left him and Del alone in the sitting room while she made tea. Despite her physical absence from the room, her presence was still felt. It was as if she held the reigns on her husband's temper, and nothing would be let loose until she was there to supervise, sit on the fence in some way, and referee. She had obviously been thinking a great deal during the hours between the hurtful argument that ensued when Hermione arrived to clear their memories and the few hours later when Ron appeared to explain the situation alone to her parents.

"Well, he's certainly got some big rubies!" Monica said borrowing the Gryffindor turn of phrase. She and Hermione chatted in the studio of the rented home in Sydney.

Hermione balked at hearing her mother speak this way. What else did that amnesia spell do to you? Her mother was rarely so crass.

Monica smiled knowingly. "My dear, you're a grown up now, aren't you?"

"Well, I'd like to think so. That doesn't mean I didn't miss you this past year. Actually," she said in a rather unsatisfied tone, "there were times when I just wanted to run away myself and find you and hide and just be safe here with you. That doesn't sound very grown up, very brave," she commented with mild disappointment in herself.

"There's nothing wrong with that, dear. In fact it sounds completely natural. You were in constant danger, afraid and miserable at times. Wishing for normal circumstances or wanting a comforting hug, a place to just let it all out for a moment—that does not mean that you are any less of a mature person. We all go through that, no matter what age. Fear has many manifestations. Some people run, others scream or are rendered immobile. Some get nervous and yell. You know, when your father got so angry yesterday," she waited for Hermione's confirming nod. "I've only seen him get that angry once before."

"Yes, I remember. When Dr. Woods cheated him out of the money to set up the first practice to pay off his gambling debt."

"Yes. He was angry for sure. But it was so much more than that. He felt cheated, lied to, naïve for trusting someone he'd gone to school with to not hurt him so—to bring everything in their relationship down to money. But that money, the investment in the practice was supposed to be his, our, security. He was, deep down, I think, more afraid of not providing for our family and feeling like a failure. It was a tremendous set back, and though we recovered from it eventually, that night, he nearly collapsed and just…he cried. I had never seen him cry, other than the tears of joy when you were born, of course. But he had trusted so completely and to have it all yanked out from underneath us…Well, he let it out. We sat and cried together, and held on to each other.

"You never told me," Hermione said concerned.

"You never asked, Hermione. You take after your father in so many ways. If it is in print you can wrap your head around it, look at it from every angle, and get to the point of the matter. It is your safeguard, logic. Sometimes," Monica inhaled pensively. "Life defies logic. Look at you now. That young man out there talking with your father over a map of…God knows what…I see we're going to have a new map framed for the house when we go home, I just know it," she smiled in acceptance of the inevitable. Del had maps of all the places they visited framed. They included highlights of their journeys written all over them. She pretended to dislike them, but in reality she thought his collection quite charming and a great family memento. Monica would often sculpt something for him for Christmas about a particular holiday to go in his office.

"Hmm," she mused and then turned her attention back to Hermione again. "When you were thirteen years old, you would write to us about Harry and Ron. There was this ease in your manner when you wrote of Harry. Your mentions of Ron were…stuttered. He was in your head then and you couldn't make sense of why. That why was because he made you feel things you were afraid to feel and at the same time, you were quite captivated by those feelings. He defied your ability to analyze for a while, especially, why you reacted to him the way you did. Ron did nothing to, let's say, connect with your default position of logic. Love has a way of working around logic sometimes, especially with adolescent boys. However, I think he's grown up enough to meet that logical reasoning head on now."

Hermione stared at her mother. "You knew I liked him even then?"

"Well, I suspected. But you were so much more…how shall I put this…loyal to your beliefs, back then."

"Are you trying to say I was stubborn? Rigid? By the book?"

Monica blushed. "Something like that. It seems you have both bent toward each other, and met in the middle somewhere. You are much more relaxed. I can see that even from just being with you for two days—you've changed. You've grown tremendously. I see a new side to you and if love is what has done it, then I'm very happy for you."

"I don't think it is just Ron that has changed me. This whole year on the run, was…Well, it makes you do a lot of soul searching. It made me look at the world a little differently. What we have is so fragile. If no one protects it, if no one speaks up and advocates for those who can't, then how are we any better than the Death Eaters? We let it happen out of fear. Harry was right."

"About?"

"At the press conference, he said something along the lines of when our words, beliefs and actions are the same in private as they are in public, that we will have a chance to heal from this wrecking ball named Voldemort."

"He's a smart young man." Monica followed Hermione's gaze as she looked out the window at Ron. "Few people are fortunate enough to find true love this early in life. He's certainly making an effort out there," she said nodding at Ron and Del outside.

"He's still very nervous about what he did to Dad, yesterday," she said as she took a sip of her tea.

"Good. That's healthy," Monica smirked.

Hermione choked on her swallow, the tea bursting forth from her lips involuntarily at her sudden fit of laughter. She looked at her mother in admiration and then contemplated the conversation. Looking at Ron, nursing a warm cup of tea in his hands, she smiled inwardly. He and Del moved to the chairs around the unlit outdoor fireplace, his ankles crossing comfortably in front of him as he took a sip of his beverage. Then his hand came up to play quickly with his hair—a sure sign that Ron was nervous after all. She smiled sympathetically. She took in a deep satisfying breath. He did relax her; she did seek that comfort in him. He had a way of trying to get her to see things from a different angle, sometimes a little too relaxed for her comfort zone, but times change. She wasn't becoming as open as Luna though, she freely admitted. Even with discovering the reality of the Deathly Hallows and how fact can be convoluted with myth and legends overdramatized for entertainment purposes in children's stories. The core truth was what she had always sought empirical evidence of something—tangibility quieted her mind. The library had been her constant growing up in the foreign magical world. She had spent a year on the run without that safety net to assuage her. However, her other pillars of support had been Ron and Harry. With them, it was the emotional support that gave her ballast to stabilize her existence and let her build on that foundation into the woman she was becoming.

Her mind returned the present and those lips gently moving across hers, inviting her to a life of kisses like this, stolen pieces of quiet amid the chaos of such a large family he would be giving to her, as he had to Harry since they were eleven years old. Here her dreams were merging with reality. A reality they had gone after whole heartedly, culminating with the empirical evidence on the third finger on her left hand.

Ron's kisses slowly heated whatever chill there had been in her from the walk from the garage, a slow heat that penetrated her the way wine could make her flush. She pulled him in closer, not wanting to part for the night. They had been separated too long in her opinion and the reunion had been sweet, so sweet, and she felt like there was no reason on earth that they should be apart. He felt like oxygen to her fire and damn if she didn't want it extinguished just yet.

She stepped back against the kitchen table between two chairs, and sat on its edge, just enough to safely remove her stockinged feet from the cold hardwood floor and begin to run them up the back of Ron's legs. The movement hitched his breathing and the kiss changed immediately to something more erotic, responding to her instantly. She leaned back slightly, her hair lowering down her back just that much more, making him follow her.

Both were so caught up in each other and in their own little world they did not notice the creak on the stairway behind them. A sudden throat clearing in a mildly disapproving and yet amused way saw the couple freeze and straighten up immediately. Hermione practically leapt off the table to a standing position, forcing Ron to take a step back lest he fall over.

"Moooorning! Bit early for presents, Ronnie," said George, eyebrows climbing to his hairline. He was leaning sideways against the post to the stairs, his arms crossed in front of him. He innocently motioned to the gifts on the table beside them as if he were actually referring to them. "If you weren't my brother, I'd stay here and enjoy the show, but since you are…If you two screw on that table, I'm going to take it outside and burn it before I eat another family dinner on it. No amount of scourgefying is going to erase that from my mind."

Hermione kept her back to him and bowed her head into Ron's chest, mortified with embarrassment—again. Even here at the Burrow, they just kept getting caught.

"Well, it didn't become a family table on its own," Ron said thinking sex on it could make it that way.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that," George replied. Ron's eyes popped when he realized George had taken his comment to mean their parents.

Recovering, Hermione straightened and turned round in Ron's arms as they crossed over her stomach protectively. "Morning," she whispered. "Sorry, did we wake you?"

"Uh, yeah, that's it."

Ron smirked, realizing full well that his brother had just left Angelina to go back to his room upstairs.

"Well, I should get some sleep. Little Spinderella will have us all up at the crack of dawn, I'm sure. Good night." She smiled fondly of Victoire who had taken to spinning her way into rooms lately. She turned back quickly to put her arms around Ron's neck for a last hug and quick kiss, when the ring on her left hand caught the light that was left on over the sink. George did not miss the sparkle.

"Whoa! Granger? Is that…" he mouth remained opened as he pointed to her ring but his voice trailed off in wonder.

Hermione pulled her hand down immediately and looked at Ron. They had both thought they would tell Harry and Ginny first. This was an unexpected turn of events, but one which was easily accommodated and enjoyable. Both were finding it hard to contain themselves and it felt good to share their news with someone. Unable to wipe the grins from their faces, they both nodded.

"We're engaged!" They whispered excitedly together and Hermione held out her hand for George's inspection.

George was standing there in awe of them, speechless for a moment as his mind went to work at grasping the new change to their family. A grin slowly spread across his face as he lunged forward, grabbing Hermione's hand briefly before rounding the table and taking them both into a massive hug.

"I can't believe it! Well, actually yes, I can! That's bloody good news! Wonderful! Congratulations! Oh, let's have a proper butcher's at that ring!" He let out a low whistle at the stunning combination of stones. "That's a stunner! Did you choose it, Hermione?"

"No. That is your brother's good taste all the way!" she said proudly. "Seven stones for luck."

"It really is beautiful. So, any details yet?"

"Um, a few but, we'll discuss that tomorrow, if we get a chance. We are going to start house hunting though," said Hermione.

"Soon," added Ron as he glanced down at her with unmasked love in is eyes.

"Mmmm, my advice, with two mothers present, make as many decisions on your own before they get their two sickles in. You know what I mean?" George seemed to be over the moon at this news. He was smiling ear to…_ear-hole_ and the twinkle in his eye seemed to reappear tonight. "I can't believe it, this is great news!" He shook his head and hugged them each again. "Uh, am I the only one who knows?"

"Yes."

"Oh, bloody hell!"

"You won't have to keep it a secret long. We'll tell everyone in the morning. Oh, Ron, I have an idea about how to tell them."

"I knew you would," he nodded completely unsurprised by this statement.

George blushed his pride and happiness for them, and then excused himself to leave them alone. "Congrats! Really am happy for you, and for us too. Glad to call you sister, Hermione. It's about bloody time." A pensive look crossed his face before his head tilted to one side. Ron knew that look. He had an idea. Ron shook his head, wondering what his big brother was planning.

Hermione blushed in genuine appreciation. "Thank you, George." She set about with some paper and envelopes and her wand for a few minutes. Ron smiled watching her, realized what she was doing and sat down to help her. Tomorrow was going to be an exciting day.

Instead of going up to bed, George put on his coat and boots and made his way outside. "Uh, just going to get Angie's present. It's in the garage," he explained.

Ron let out his breath and relaxed. Hmm, maybe he wasn't going to pull something.

Ron and Hermione quickly finished with their late night project and proceeded quietly to the sitting room to set it up. They heard George come back in and fiddle about in the kitchen a few moments, grabbing a late night snack they assumed when they heard the fridge door open and close.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him as they turned to head to their separate rooms. A grimace crossed his features that was mildly disgusted.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"Well, if George was down in Ginny's room, visiting with Angie, then that means Ginny is upstairs with Harry."

"So?"

"Sooo, there in my room!"

"What's your point, love?" she said innocently, knowing full well where he was going.

"Well, they're probably, you know…" he said frustrated.

"Ron! They're getting married in _six_ days, officially. And they've been apart for two weeks too. Give them a break!"

"But Hermione, you know where that break is taking place? In my bed! That cot isn't strong enough for, you know," he said uncomfortably.

"Ron Weasley! You're a prude!"

"Only where my sister is concerned."

"You're also a hypocrite!" Hermione accused.

"Come again?" he countered.

"Oh, for heaven's sake! What did we just do in _their_ wedding sleigh?"

"Oh. That," he said, only slightly contrite.

"Oh, that? Are you kidding me? That was for their wedding!"

"Yeah, but they're in _my_ bed, _my_ sheets. I'm going to have to change them."

"Ron you could probably throw them out by now, I'm sure." He looked at her with new alarm. "No, honey, I didn't mean they had messed them that much. I'm sure they would clean them if they did. I just meant you could use getting new ones. Time to get rid of the Chudley Cannons sheets from, what, seven—eight years ago? The print is half worn off by now, anyway."

He looked at her with a horror on his face as if she had just snapped his wand. She had taken it a bit too far and she knew it, so she back tracked a bit, getting his mind off his sheets. She cleared her throat. "Uh, remember Australia? What did we use Harry's cloak for? It wasn't infiltration work."

He smirked, as his eyes reflected the memory of sex under the invisibility cloak when housekeeping had come into their room. "Speak for yourself." Hermione laughed and then nodded her agreement.

"Well, they know you're coming back. Maybe they set up a time to get back to proper bedrooms. George is out after all. Let's go tell them!" she said excitedly, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the stairs.

As they approached Ron's closed bedroom door, they could hear Harry and Ginny's voices. Why wouldn't they have used a muffling charm, he wondered. Then he silently berated himself for thinking that. Seeing the light coming from under the door, Ron approached it and knocked. "Zippers up!"

"Ron!" Hermione admonished, shaking her head at him in a reproving manner.

She pushed him aside and knocked lightly on the door. "Uh, can we come in?" The door magically unlocked from the inside and Ron and Hermione entered. They were standing, leaning against the dresser, arms around each other, rolling their eyes at Ron's order.

"You're not my boss here, mate," Ron said sternly. Deciding to play up his tenseness a bit, Ron turned to the door and cast a muffling charm before turning back to Harry and Ginny who had straightened up, a little confused at Ron's manner.

Harry was ready to do battle for Ginny if he had to. He had thought over the years that Ron had softened to his being with Ginny, after all, they were about to be married. He was in it for the long haul. Enough was enough. Harry was about to put Ron in his place when he was cut off by Ron himself.

"All right, listen up you two," he began. Hermione was suddenly confused. He was excited to share the news too just ten minutes earlier. What had happened?

"I've just got one thing to say to you," he said pointedly. Harry and Ginny's body language betrayed defiance against this seeming resurgence of his over-protectiveness toward his sister. Then his voice changed to excited and happy. "You two aren't the only ones getting married!" He grabbed Hermione's hand. "We're engaged!"

"What?"

Hermione held up her hand to happily show them the evidence that it truly was a done deal. "We're getting married!" She joined in ecstatically, though mildly bewildered at how Ron decided to tell them.

It took a moment for Harry and Ginny to grasp what had just happened, and then the howls and hoops of laughter proceeded. Hugs, handshakes, and smiles and screams of delight rebounded off the walls of the small room at the top of the staircase.

"When? How?" said Ginny.

"He just asked me, well an hour or so, I guess."

"I guess that was _some_ "alone time" you had!" Ginny said excitedly. "I'm so happy for you," she said hugging Hermione again.

"And don't worry Ginny. Our engagement has nothing to do with your wedding. We won't let it intrude on your day next week."

"Hell! Why not? Let's announce it to the rest of the family during the dinner. This is family news! And this is great news! Oh, the speeches are going to be a little brighter with impending new additions to the family with Bill and Fleur and now you two. This couldn't be better news!"

"It's totally up to you, if it's shared during your celebration."

"Wow! I don't think we have to wait for the fireworks at the midnight countdown. They'll be going off all evening with news like this. We'll have to rein George in, the pyromaniac!"

Ginny's eyes popped open wide with an idea. "Oh!"

"What?" all responded in unison.

"Mind if I hijack your announcement? I have a great idea, and it won't be during the dinner or anything," she said hopefully.

"Get on with it!" Ron said.

"Well, if you don't mind, let's put a charm on my bouquet before I throw it. You know, and it will go to Hermione."

"And one on the garter too, to go automatically to Ron!" Harry chimed in excitedly. "If you don't not mind wearing your ring that day, Hermione, until the big reveal that is. That would be excellent! What do you think?" he said

"It's your wedding, Ginny. And I don't want to take anything away from you," Ron said quietly.

"Ron," she said, suddenly choked up that he said something so considerate. "It's my idea and I couldn't be happier for you too," she said as she gave him a hug, followed by a mild, proud pat on the back.

"Well, I think, _how on earth_ are we going to convince Mum to keep quiet for a week!" Ron said.

All laughed in amusement as well as agreement. Molly had the worst time keeping news like this to herself.

It was three in the morning before they all separated again and finally got to their own beds and slept until Victoire could be heard running through the house squealing that Pere-Noel had come.

Everyone slowly got out of bed and made their way to the sitting room, the coffee and tea brewed and steeped respectively to help waken some of the adults who had been up half the night. Gifts were exchanged and Monica and Del smiled as they watched their daughter fit in so easily with the Weasley clan.

Victoire was now playing with a magical tea set with her dolls off to the corner with a pile of gifts, including her new favourite piece of clothing: a tutu. Ron's voice interrupted the small conversations that were taking place around the room.

"Uh, everyone, there's still one more thing to open, before we start breakfast." Everyone looked in his direction, to see him nod to Hermione. She smiled knowingly and flourished her wand. A dozen paper doves flew from the Christmas tree and fluttered in front of each person until they opened their palm and the birds landed softly in them, chirping their delight at having found their destination. Simultaneously, the paper birds unfolded to reveal a simple message inside them from the happy couple standing in front of the Christmas tree together, arms wrapped around each other and grinning madly. W_e're getting married!_

Eyes widened all round, and then the cheers began, the hugs, the kisses and handshakes followed.

George left the room a moment and returned with chilled champagne and orange juice, and a tray full of flutes to toast to the happy couple. Monica and Del were thrilled to be part of the announcement in this magical setting and beamed proudly at their daughter and her future husband.

After everyone drank to the happy couple, Molly set down her flute and walked to the kitchen and retrieved a box, wrapped in red with a golden bow and a weasel sitting at its center. She cleared her throat, causing all to quiet down and turn to the matriarch. Noting the box in her hands, on cue, all broke out into the chorus of We Three Kings.

"Oh-oh…Star of wonder, star of light. Star with royal beauty bright…" When the hymn began, the weasel became animated, looking for Hermione, it pointed its snout in her direction.

Ron began to turn red with emotion and took her champagne flute so she could receive the gift. Monica and Del Granger watched in rapt attention. Tears began to flow down her cheeks, followed by a somewhat audible sniffle. Molly and Arthur walked with purpose together towards Ron and Hermione, smiling proudly. Hermione's lips were already trembling with the overwhelming emotion the situation created deep in her heart. She raised her hands to receive the box and the weasel began to unwrap the bow and then stood still. Arthur put his hand out to receive the lid of the box as he did the night before with Harry.

Hermione looked briefly to Ron. The look on his face defied description as his jaw muscles flexed to control the onslaught of pride he felt at this moment. His hand at the small of her back in support, he looked on encouraging her to remove the top layer of golden tissue paper. Underneath, Hermione found an exquisite crystal star with a suspended silver name plate, engraved with Hermione's name in a beautiful cursive script. She reached into the box and gingerly removed it. Ron took Hermione's hand and escorted her back to the tree as the family continued to sing in harmony. She looked for Ron's matching crystal star and placed hers next to his on the tree as the other couples had done. She closed her eyes and made a wish before she released the hook.

She sunk happily into Ron's arms as they came lovingly around her, holding her close. Applause broke into the singing as Ron and Hermione tearfully clung to one another in front of the twinkling Christmas tree. Charlie had gotten the camera out and was filming the ritual. Some part of her had not thought that being engaged would make that much of a difference. She loved Ron and his family and she knew they loved her too. But all took on more poignancy as the inclusive gesture made her feel truly part of the family.

She looked back at her ornament, her lips pursing together, her face turning red with how touched she felt. Ron's hand glided soothingly over her back. She leaned back to look up at him, and he her. For a brief moment, with everyone in the room, they felt there was no one else in the world. His hand found her cheek in a soft caress and a sweet whisper of love filled her ears before their lips met, their hearts soaring as one towards a lifetime together.

Outside the window, fireworks suddenly lit up the morning sky. "Oh, that's peculiar," said George innocently.

oOoOoOoOoOo

A/N: It seems appropriate to end it here, but I have a short epilogue in mind.

By the way, I meant to include in my A/N in the last chapter that I proposed to my husband. That was not the inspiration for having Hermione propose; however, just the thought of them having a wee tiff was too much fun not to play with. The title above is also part of my wedding vows. "To speak and to listen/ To give and to receive/To inspire and to respond." Can't remember the order though. It was 19 years ago after all.

Regarding requests to write their wedding—well, I do have one scene from their wedding which is in my usual flashback style and is currently in Generations (working title). If I don't publish Generations, someday I'll just put up the wedding as a one shot but it requires quite a bit of tweaking. Although, suddenly I have kinda of a thought about a bachelor party for Ron. Oh, that naughty George! (Oops, I guess that's actually naughty me, since I'm writing him.)


	10. Epilogue

Epilogue

Disclaimer: JKR owns all characters, etc. No profit, just personal enjoyment because she left us hanging.

(Story dictated date below)

oOo

Sunday, January 2, 2001

Ron and Hermione woke lazily in the Diagon Alley apartment. Alone in their bedroom, it was blissfully quiet. Ron's right arm moved over her stomach and drew her to him to cuddle. Nestling his face into her hair, he gently kissed the back of her head. He smiled when he heard her breathe a sigh of contentment. Her left hand came up to caress his right arm. He opened his eyes slightly and looked at the gleaming ring on her hand as her fingers moved back and forth over his forearm. A surge of happiness lighted his heart again. He smiled into her hair and she felt the movement of his face displace a few tendrils.

"That tickles," he whispered.

Hermione laughed lightly and then rolled over in his arms, returning his embrace. Their noses touching briefly, before she placed feather light kisses on his forehead, a cheek, and then nuzzled him a moment before their eyes landed softly on one another. They just stared at each other a moment, each saying without words the simplicity and complexity of the love that was theirs. They gazed at one another, taking in all that was in their arms, in their hearts, and in their minds. Slowly, they were drawn to each other and their lips met lovingly, exploring and claiming each other anew as hands moved to caress and hold close all that they wanted to protect from intrusion of the world outside their room.

Gently, their bodies began to wake to an increasing rhythm that would refuse them any degree of separation. Smoothly, and slowly they rose and fell together as they crested the waves like the shimmering sun on open water.

They lay in each other's arms afterwards, just talking about the wedding mostly. Commenting on this and that that they liked about the ceremony and what they might want to bring forward into their own the following summer.

"It was nice to see Neville so happy. I don't think he and Hannah separated all night. Did you chat with him about it in the men's room? That seems like the only time he left her, I think. Had they been seeing each other before?"

"No, nothing serious. I think he had a bit of a crush on her at Hogwarts, but nothing really happened then. I got the feeling they hooked up here and there, but I'd say there's more to it now," he said happy for their friend.

"Ginny had a feeling about them before, but Hannah went away for a spell and that ended. When she replied she was coming alone to the wedding, she purposely placed them together at the table. Nothing like a wedding to bring people together," she grinned.

"Speaking of the wedding, the Prophet should have some pictures today," Ron said.

"Oh! Yes! And there will be some new house listings today too since there was no paper on New Years."

Hermione got up and put her dressing gown and slippers on and made her way to the kitchen. Ron followed suit but ducked into the loo first.

House listings. A familiar tightness gripped his stomach. He would rent if they had to, but it still plagued him that Gringott's might not be amenable to lend them money for a home purchase. He found a small degree of solace that this was not a situation he alone had brought into their future together. Hermione had been part of the break in too; it was a shared problem right from the outset.

Making her way to the kitchen, Harry and Ginny's wedding two nights ago at dusk churned through her head bringing a serene smile to Hermione's face. The snow softly covered the empty branches of the softly lit orchard at the Burrow, lovingly welcoming friends and family to the union. All was over except for the packing up of the magically heated massive tent Arthur and Molly had rented, much along the lines of the one erected for Bill and Fleur.

This tent was all in cream, with Christmas green draping, trimmed with gold. Three foot glass vases of red roses, and berries with sprigs of cedar and pine had adorned each table, high enough to create a mini canopy under which guests could easily see each other and carry on conversation. Multiple Christmas trees had filled each corner of the tent, all peppered with white lights, and matching green and gold ornaments and red bows and red gift wrapped boxes underneath that matched the bridesmaids' dresses. Each member of the bridal party was to keep one of the glass vases as a gift. Two sat flanking the ends of the wide dresser in Ron's room; George's sat out in the sitting room of the apartment.

Hermione was tired and glad of the quiet after the incredible party Friday night and then the gift opening on Saturday before the couple left for their honeymoon to Italy. She had brought her parents back to Klosters to continue their skiing holiday and members of the Weasley clan had slowly filtered back to their respective homes and apartments throughout the day.

A yawning Hermione ran her hand through her bushy hair as she entered the kitchen, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the brighter light. She flourished her wand at the stove to warm the kettle for tea that she had filled the night before. Briefly, she glanced at the vegetable sprayer, making note that all was clear today. Her eyes travelled over her well covered body. There would be no repeat of a certain earlier incident today, she thought smugly. Even her feet were covered.

She was eager to read the Sunday paper. Noting George and Angelina were still not up yet, she walked softly to the back door and quietly opened it with a slight shiver at the brisk wind. Finding the Daily Prophet on the doorstep as usual, brought a satisfied smile to her face. There should be news of the wedding. A reporter and photographer had been sent to cover the wedding. After all, it was Harry Potter getting married. Anything they could print about him meant sales. Ginny would allow the Quidditch correspondent in and no other on a take it or leave it basis with the journal. They took it.

Hermione unfolded the paper to discover under the middle crease a beautiful picture of Harry and Ginny in the sleigh leading from the orchard to the tent. She smiled. The couple looked so happy, and they were. Under the photo was information of where to look in the paper for the full story and additional shots. She lay the paper down on the kitchen table, prepared her tea and then sat down to open the paper to the section.

Immediately her eyes widened in alarmed surprise. Not only were there pictures of the wedding, but of her and Ron too holding the bridal bouquet and garter up like champions as Harry and Ginny announced their engagement at eleven thirty. Her mind went to work. The newspaper staff had not been invited into the reception, so someone had to have shared this with the newspaper. Worry lines creased her forehead. Their engagement should not take anything away from Harry and Ginny's day, and suddenly she was concerned with what the family would think of this.

Ron was already pouring himself a cup of tea before she noticed his presence in the room. He bent to kiss her lightly before joining her at the table. "Anything interesting?"

"Uh, you could say that," she said indicating the picture of them holding up the wedding items.

"Oi!" he said alarmed.

"Do you think your mum will be upset?"

"Hmm, hard to say. She's pretty happy we're getting on with it, but it _is_ Ginny's day. I hadn't thought this would happen when we agreed to her idea on how to tell people. It was just supposed to be family and friends in on it—not that I mind people knowing, love," he said as he lovingly rubbed her back.

She smiled up at him, her arm reciprocating an embrace at his waste as she leaned in to cuddle him. There was nothing they could do about it now. She knew Harry and Ginny would be fine with it. Barely a moment later, a tapping could be heard at the window. An owl sat on the window ledge above the kitchen sink, pecking to be let in, a letter at its feet. Ron moved quickly to open the window, at his approach the owl picked up the letter again to offer it to him. His name was written in a familiar scrawl. It was from his mother.

He looked at Hermione with a bit of concern showing in his face. "It's from Mum. Well, at least it's not a howler," he said opening the white envelope after giving the owl a treat. "It says: Would you and Hermione please drop by the Burrow this morning. Mum."

"Well, she doesn't exactly sound upset, but…" Hermione said. "Well, let's go get dressed and get on with it, then."

The couple Apparated to the yard outside the kitchen door. Opening their eyes, they were met with a large assortment of owls all over the place. They looked at each other with mild alarm. Something had happened. Gingerly, Ron opened the door, holding it open for Hermione to enter ahead of him and followed. The kitchen table was full of envelopes. All were addressed to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, c/o The Burrow.

"Oh, good morning dears. Muffins will be ready in about five minutes if you're hungry. In the meantime, I'd say you two have some post to go through."

Ron noted the open newspaper at the opposite end of the kitchen table from the post. "Uh, nice pictures of Harry and Ginny."

"Yes, they are," Molly beamed proudly. "A rather nice one of you two as well. And it seems I'm not the only one who thinks so," she said mildly amused, her head nodding at the letters.

Ron and Hermione exchanged curious glances and each picked up an envelope to open. Ron gingerly removed a small card from its matching folder and read:

_Congratulations on your engagement!_

_Please__accept__this__modest__gift__from__our__family__as__you__begin__your__s._

_We__are__all__so__grateful__for__all__you__and__Harry__Potter__did__to__help__keep__us__together._

_Hope this helps you get on your way._

_Best Wishes,_

_The Cattermoles_

Ron looked up at Hermione incredulously. In his hand was a cheque made out to Ron and Hermione. His mouth dropped open, dumbfounded. Then he read the note aloud this time to the others. "I guess Reg has no hard feelings for what we did. No Puking Pastille in the envelope," Ron said, trying to make light of the situation. He really didn't know how to respond.

Hermione's eyes widened, feeling blood drain from her head. She gripped the back of one of the kitchen chairs before sitting down, staring at a similar note in her hand and the pile of envelopes still to go through. An owl left at the opening of each envelope, not expecting a return reply. She read aloud:

_We__just__read__of__your__engagement.__We__would__like__to__extend__our__sincerest__congratulations__and__good__wishes__for__a__long__and__happy__life__together.__Please__do__us__the__honor__of__accepting__this__token__of__our__appreciation__for__all__you__did__to__bring__peace__and__good__will__back__to__the__magical__community._

_Sincerely_

_The Jones Family_

"Oh… my… Merlin! A cheque here, too! They can't all have money in them?" Hermione said in wonder.

Ron looked uncomfortable. They continued to open the mail as Molly set muffins and tea in front of them. "Oi! Another, same thing," he said shaking his head at the generosity of people. "Cash in some envelopes, no way to trace this back. We can't accept this, it's, it's…"

"Thoughtful and generous and kind," Molly responded proudly. "And that is all they want you to feel, because you went with Harry on the run to bring down Voldemort, to force it to a conclusion when no one else could. You three changed so many lives, saved so many. Don't you understand? This is a small gesture of appreciation. They want to do something for you and so many see this as an opportunity to support you they way you did them," Molly reasoned.

"But, there are no return addresses on the envelopes, and the owls have all left without a reply, even a thank you reply," Hermione said.

"Exactly," Arthur chimed in from the doorway to the sitting room where he had been standing and listening unobserved. "Take the hint, my dear. These are gifts that they do not wish to be returned. My advice to you is to receive it with the good intentions with which they are being given and perhaps put a general thank you in the Prophet to all the way Ginny and Harry did."

Ron and Hermione looked to each other for confirmation of what they would do and both saw in each other's eyes that Arthur's suggestion seemed sensible. They continued reading the letters and setting aside the monetary gifts that amounted to a generous down payment on a home. Ron turned red as he realized what was in front of them, and swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Sitting at the table, he put his arm over Hermione's shoulders and pulled her close to him. Then he grabbed the last envelope. Its paper was thick and embossed in gold and it came from Gringott's Bank. He froze for a moment in alarm before he showed it to Hermione.

Suddenly, Hermione was nervous. All seemed to be going their way, but this reminder of what could be a great blow, stopped them both. They had not set foot in the bank since taking part in the robbery. Ron had taken to hiding his money in various ways with security and illusion charms, as did Hermione. Whenever they had come in contact with a goblin while at a restaurant, they received cold stares. These small uncomfortable moments only served to reinforce their unwelcome status at the magical bank.

Ron opened the letter and read it, his ears turning redder if it was possible. He handed the note to Hermione who read it quickly and then her breath hitched, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. She looked at Ron and tears began to form in her eyes. Their arms came around each other in relief.

_Please accept our congratulations on your upcoming nuptials._

_If Gringott's can be of service to you, do not hesitate to contact us._

_Ragnuk IV, Manager_

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

"A note from Gringott's, offering their services," Ron replied and cleared his throat.

Arthur smiled. "You can thank your brother for that. Bill has put his neck on the line quietly working to convince them, that despite the physical destruction of the building and the loss of their dragon when you three broke in, that they should look at the bigger picture. Control of the bank is back in goblin hands and they have been freed from Voldemort and the Death Eaters too. Their people are no longer in hiding either. It looks like all is forgiven, or at least understood with that letter. Don't suppose they offered you 5% of your house price, eh?"

"No. Just the implication that we could get a house loan now," Hermione said.

"Well, baby steps. They are making an effort. They are a very proud race and the robbery did humiliate them and their reputation for security. I'd say they are making a great concession, indeed," Molly said.

"Yes, they are," Ron said. Suddenly, a real house with a yard for kids to run around in had real potential for them. Monica and Del had offered to help them out if things proved too difficult for them, as did Molly and Arthur, but Ron wanted them to do it on their own if they could just like any other couple.

Ron looked at the engagement ring on Hermione's hand, and then all the gifts on the table. His heart swelled in amazement and relief as he pulled her closer. There was so much good in the world, in people's hearts, in his arms. He bowed his head against Hermione's, kissing her tenderly on top. "Looks like we can really do this—have a home," he said unable to keep the anticipation from his voice.

Hermione gazed lovingly at him. "Yes, we can. But, sweetheart, don't you realize? Our home is what you and I make together—owned or not. As long as we're together, our home is here," she said placing her hand on his heart.

Ron's eyes sparkled a little brighter than usual, returning the love she directed his way. His hand caressed her cheek before leaning in to kiss her softly, forgetting his mum and dad in the room for just a moment.

_The End_

oOoOoOoOoOo

A/N: Well, hope you enjoyed my story. I couldn't leave it with Ron that concerned over their future and not give him some peace of mind. I like him too much.

Now I can get back to reading fanfic too, which I had to stop in order to catch up with work and finish writing this one. I'm ready to just read for a bit, and enjoy others' work with no pressure.

Thank you for the kind reviews and suggestions for further stories. They are "phoenix song" to my heart, and seedlings for my imagination.


End file.
